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syddsatyrn · 7 days

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⛧Devotion is Love with Wings⛧

Chapter Three: The Queen's Return

Ch1 / Ch2 / Ch3 / Ch4

⛧Pairing: - Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

⛧Warnings: Alcohol, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, king x servant, panic attack, heartbreak.

⛧Words: 3.2K

⛧Summary: Lilith's return brings a wave of tension, Lucifer navigates complicated feelings while you try to remain professional and devoid of emotion. As devastated as you are, you still have a job to uphold.

⛧Notes: Thank you all for the overwhelming support with this fic! I have never had so many notes and lovely comments! After much deliberation, I have decided to continue this series. I will tag as many people as I can. Special thanks to @iivantablackii for helping me organize some ideas and come up with plot points. Check out her Adam x Eve Fic (Here) Its so good!

⛧Tag list: @loslox @tiedyedghoulette @naiadic @elyssialumengard @lilteamushroom

As dawn broke over the horizon, you stirred in Lucifer's embrace. The events of the previous night felt like a dream, but his presence beside you reassured you that it was all real. You recall those sweet words that were exchanged last night, and how his lips felt against yours. His peaceful expression as he slept filled your heart with a sense of contentment you had never known before. You gently traced the contours of his face, committing every detail to memory.

The sunlight slowly illuminated the room, casting a warm glow over both of you entwined in each other's arms. Lucifer began to stir, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours. A soft smile played on his lips as he pulled you closer, savoring the moment of quiet intimacy between you.

The idea of a relationship with the King of Hell was no longer out of the question, you were free to enjoy his attention and affection. Well, at least within the confines of the manor it was allowed. You decided it was best to Let Lucifer take the reins when it comes time for a public appearance. Regardless, you felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders.

As the day progressed, Lucifer and you found yourselves falling into a comfortable routine within the manor. The staff noticed a change in the atmosphere, a certain lightness and happiness that seemed to radiate from the two of you whenever you were together. It was as if a new energy had breathed life into the once solemn halls of the estate.

Lucifer seemed to walk a little taller, his usual air of confidence now tinged with a newfound softness when he looked at you. He would steal glances in your direction when he thought you weren't looking, a small smile playing on his lips. And you, in turn, felt your heart swell with love every time he reached out to touch your hand or brushed a stray lock of hair away from your face. You both made sure the household staff never saw the two of you stealing kisses or holding hands.

Despite the unspoken rules and boundaries that still loomed over your relationship, you couldn't deny the connection that had formed between you and the King of Hell. It was a delicate dance, this newfound love between a monarch and his closest confidante, but one worth every risk.

But it was in those moments, behind closed doors and in the quiet of the night, that your bond with Lucifer truly flourished. He would share stories with you about his time in Heaven, about the burdens he carried and the sacrifices he made. You, in turn, would listen intently, offering words of comfort and understanding.

As the days turned into weeks, the line between duty and desire began to blur. Lucifer would often find any excuse to seek your company, he would often summon you to his study for a few kisses and to feel your fingers running through his blonde hair. Late into the evening, you would wait until all the staff had left, and quietly slip down the hall and into Lucifer's room for some sleepy cuddles. Eventually, you would drift off to sleep and have to sneak back to your room the next morning without running into any of the maids.

You had delivered his mail to his study and set it on his desk. Lucifer grinned as he suddenly pulled you into his lap, you let out a small gasp as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You smiled as he pressed his lips against yours tenderly, your face turned several shades of pink and you broke the kiss. His hands traced gentle patterns on your back, sending shivers down your spine.

"Is it hot in here, or is it just you?" Lucifer says as he looks at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. You couldn't help but laugh at his cheesy line, feeling the tension dissipate between you.

"Maybe it's just you," you reply, teasingly nudging him. You felt his fingers graze your cheek, tracing your jawline before He slowly closes the gap between you both once again. Another kiss that filled you with longing, but you quickly came back to earth.

“I have to finish up my work, I can’t stay.” You say with a giggle. Lucifer nuzzles your shoulder, he pouts and squeezes you a little tighter.

“Oh c’mon, you’re always working.” He says, hoping you’ll just give in and ditch the rest of your duties. As if you would ever consider such a thing.

"I promise I'll make it up to you later," you say, planting a quick kiss on his cheek before slipping out of his lap. Lucifer watches you go with a mixture of longing and amusement in his eyes. You exit the study with pink cheeks and a small smile.

Lucifer grabs the mail off the desk and sorts through it, one letter in particular stood out. The handwriting looked very familiar, almost too familiar. He grabs his letter opener and carefully opens the envelope. As soon as he saw the way his name was written he knew exactly who it was from.

“Lucifer- I know it's been a long time, and I know you might still be upset with me. I’ve decided to pay you and Charlie a visit. I do miss you both, despite taking my leave. Love always - Lilith”

Lucifer’s heart sank into his stomach, his hands trembled slightly as he reread the letter from his former lover and the mother of his daughter, Charlie. He had not seen Lilith since she left them both seven years ago.

Lucifer couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. What could have prompted Lilith to break her silence now, after all these years? And what would her arrival mean for him, for you, and for Charlie?

Lucifer knew he had to tell you about Lilith's impending visit, to prepare you for the storm that was sure to follow. He rose from his desk and tucked the letter into his pocket.

Lucifer made his way through the manor, a heaviness in his steps that matched the weight in his heart. He found you in the garden, tending to the roses with a peaceful expression on your face. As you turned to him, a smile brightened your features, but it faltered when you saw the worried look in his eyes.

"Is everything alright, Lucifer?" you asked, concern lacing your words.

He took your hands in his. "There's something I need to tell you," he began, his voice tinged with worry. "Lilith is coming."

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of Lilith's name.

You felt a mix of emotions swirling within you - curiosity, apprehension, and a tinge of jealousy that you quickly pushed aside. You used to serve Lilith for a short time, learning about her power and the strong connection she had with Lucifer. You knew that their relationship was complicated and filled with unresolved emotions, even after all this time.

Despite the aching pit in your stomach, you squeezed his hands and smiled softly. You could see the vulnerability in his eyes. “Whatever happens, I’m here for you.” You reassure him, his shoulders visibly relaxed at your words. Lucifer pulls you into a hug, seeking comfort in your arms.

"Thank you," he whispered against your hair, his voice barely above a breath. "I don't know what I would do without you by my side."

Those words trigger something in you, suddenly you have this overwhelming urge to protect him from such heartbreak. Lucifer never deserved what she did to him. To abandon him like that was just cruel and senseless. You hold him close and gently rub his back as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“What does she want?” You finally ask. Lucifer sighed, the weight of his past with Lilith evident in the lines etched on his face. He took a step back, creating some distance between you and him as he gathered his thoughts.

"I'm not entirely sure," he admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "But knowing Lilith, it could be anything from seeking forgiveness to stirring up trouble."

-------------⛧

As days passed and Lilith's visit drew closer, tension hung thick in the air. When Charlie learned that her mother would be visiting, she came to stay at the estate. She prepared a very detailed presentation centered around her redemption hotel that she intends to show mother.

Charlie's arrival added another layer of stress to the impending reunion with Lilith. As she busied herself with preparing for her mother's visit, you couldn't help but notice the mixture of excitement and anxiety in her eyes. Charlie had always longed for her mother's acceptance, despite the pain and abandonment she had caused. It was clear that Lilith's presence evoked a plethora of emotions within both Lucifer and Charlie.

When Lilith’s car pulls up to the grand entrance of the manor, you stand next to Lucifer, your arms folded behind your back. Lucifer's demeanor shifted slightly as Lilith emerged from the vehicle. His posture straightened, his expression unreadable as he watched her approach. Lilith's long, blonde hair cascaded down her back like a veil, and her eyes held a mixture of guilt and determination. As she drew closer, a tense silence settled over the courtyard.

"Lucifer," Lilith began, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's been too long." Her gaze flickered to you briefly, acknowledging your presence before returning to Lucifer. His eyes held a mix of nostalgia, longing, and perhaps a flicker of hope. The King's gaze softens as she says his name, you immediately take notice.

Charlie interrupts their interaction by rushing out to greet her. She envelops Lilith in a tight embrace and Lilith hugs her back.

Lucifer held nothing but love in his eyes as he watched the reunion between Lilith and Charlie. Despite the complexities of their past, he couldn't deny the swell of bittersweet emotions that washed over him at the sight of his daughter's happiness.

Witnessing this made your heart shatter into a thousand tiny pieces. Despite your attempts to push away any feelings of jealousy or insecurity, they crept in and poisoned any hope you had of continuing this relationship with Lucifer.

Lilith turned to you. “It's been quite a while, Y/N. Its nice to see your familiar face”. You quickly bowed your head, placing your hand over your heart.

“The pleasure is all mine, my Queen.” You said, voice devoid of any emotion or warmth. Lucifer glances over at you, but you refuse to make eye contact. He’s all too familiar with that tone in your voice. Lilith may not pick up on it, but he knew you, something was wrong.

"Lilith," Lucifer said coolly, "to what do I owe this unexpected visit?"

Lilith bit her lip nervously, a hint of remorse crossing her face. "I've come to make amends, my dear," she said earnestly. "I know I hurt you deeply, and I regret my actions . I also came to spend some time with our daughter." Lilith looks over at Charlie, who is smiling from ear to ear.

Charlie’s smile softened some of the tension in the air as she looked at her mother with adoration in her eyes. “I’m so glad you’re here, Mom,” she said, her voice filled with genuine happiness. Despite the past, Charlie's longing for a connection with her mother was apparent in every word she spoke.

Lucifer remained silent, his gaze shifting between Lilith, Charlie, and you. You could sense the conflicting emotions swirling within him – the desire to protect his daughter from any more pain, the lingering love he once held for Lilith, and the growing affection he felt for you. It was a delicate balance that threatened to tip at any moment.

As Lilith settled into the manor, attempting to make amends and reconnect with Charlie, you found yourself observing their interactions closely. There were moments of laughter and shared stories, but also instances of tension and unspoken words. You couldn't help but feel like an outsider in your own home. How could you compete with such a beautiful creature?

She does everything with such grace and carries herself with confidence. She has a radiance that draws people in effortlessly, while you feel like a mere shadow in comparison. You no longer sat by Lucifer’s side during your meals, you would only speak when spoken to, and you definitely didn’t sneak into his room at night.

You spent your nights alone in your room, as did Lilith. They had an argument this morning during breakfast. You stood next to the door, awaiting your next command when Lilith started to complain about not sleeping in Lucifer’s bed with him.

“Luci, please? We used to share a bed all the time, and I miss that connection with you," Lilith pleaded, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness.

"Lilith, we've been over this. I can't just...go back to how things were." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. His voice was steady and his gaze flickered towards you for a brief second.

“You are so cruel.” She says with a huff.

“Says the woman who left her family for seven years.” Lucifer retorts.

“How dare you! To think I married such a selfish man.” Lilith raises her voice as she rises from her seat. She leaves the dining hall through the door you stood next to. Lucifer held his face in hands, looking defeated. You wanted to comfort him, you really did. But you couldn't bring yourself to move a muscle.

"I'm sorry you had to witness that," he said quietly, his voice tinged with regret. You felt a pang of guilt for not stepping in, for not being able to ease his suffering.

"It's not your fault," you replied softly, finally finding your voice. "I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you." Lucifer stood up from the table and walked over to where you were standing by the door. Tears well up in the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill over.

He reached out a hand towards you, hesitating for a moment before gently cupping your face. "Thank you for staying," he whispered, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "I know this is hard for you too."

You pulled Lucifer into a tight hug, he buried his face in your shoulder, attempting to hide the tears falling down his cheeks. You ran your fingers through his hair, offering silent comfort as he let out a shaky breath. After a few moments, Lucifer pulled back slightly to look into your eyes. "I don't know what I would do without you," he confessed, his voice raw with emotion.

You searched his eyes, seeing the sincerity and love within them. "You'll never have to find out," you whispered, a promise lacing your words. You wipe his tear stained face with your thumb as you offer him a small smile.

Lucifer brought his lips to yours in a tender kiss. It was soft and tentative at first, but soon deepened. It felt like the floodgates had been opened. It’s been days since you’ve had any physical contact with him, you didn’t realize how much you missed his affection. The world around you faded away, for a brief minute it was like Lilith was never there.

When you both part, he presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes as he breathes you in. You stood there, wrapped in each other's embrace, the sound of footsteps disrupted the moment. Charlie appeared in the doorway, a curious expression on her face as she took in the scene before her. There was a flicker of surprise in her eyes, quickly masked by a smile.

"Mom told me about when you two first met," Charlie said softly, her voice filled with warmth. "She said there was something special between you and Dad from the start."

Lucifer turned to his daughter, a softness in his gaze as he reached out a hand to her. "Charlie, there is something I need to discuss with you," he began, his tone serious yet tinged with hope. Your gaze flickered between Lucifer and Charlie. “I’ll leave you both to it, I’m going to go help the kitchen staff clean up.”

Lucifer motioned for Charlie to sit down at the table.

"I know this may come as a surprise, but Y/N and I have grown incredibly close over these past few weeks," Lucifer started. "And I've come to realize that love takes many forms…”

“Are you…not in love with mom anymore?” Charlie asks, her eyes wide with a mix of emotions. Lucifer sighed, the weight of his words heavy in the air.

"I will always care for your mother, Charlie. But no…things have changed and I don’t…see her the way I used to.”

“Dad, why didn’t you just tell me? Here I am, hoping you two will find some kind of spark and I can have my broken family back. I feel so stupid.” Her voice is filled with a mix of uncertainty and sadness.

“Sometimes relationships change and evolve in ways we never expect.” He paused, meeting his daughter’s gaze with sincerity. “Y/N has shown me a kind of love and understanding that I never thought possible. It’s different from what I shared with Lilith, but it’s real and profound in its own way.”

Charlie processed his words, her expression thoughtful as she looked down at her hands. “So, what does this mean for us?” she finally asked.

Lucifer reached out to take both of Charlie’s hands in his own. “It means that our family is changing, but it doesn’t mean it’s breaking apart,” he said gently. “Love is not a finite resource—it can expand to encompass more than we ever imagined.”

“I just wish you would have told me sooner. I thought we were going to start sharing more and build trust between us.” Charlie says and looks away slightly.

“Char Char, I absolutely intended to tell you as soon as I understood what was going on in my head. I needed time to come to terms with how I felt.” Lucifer tries to explain. "I know this is a lot to process, Charlie. But I want you to know that your feelings are valid, and I understand if this is hard for you,"

"I... I just need some time to think," she murmured, standing up from the table. "I'm going to go for a walk." With that, she left the dining room.

You told yourself you wouldn’t eavesdrop, but you couldn’t resist pressing your ear to the crack between the door and wall. A tear falls from the corner of your eye as you listen to Charlie. Are you breaking up a family? Your heart ached with the weight of the situation.

Lucifer let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. This is definitely not how he pictured this discussion going. He knew things would get complicated once Lilith got here, but he really thought he would get through to Charlie. Lucifer heads to his study to spend time alone contemplating about how he can fix this.

#hazbin hotel #syddsatyrn #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar x you #lucifer x you #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin fanfic #lucifer x y/n

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woodland-gremlin · 1 month

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How to Adopt Your Clone Pt. 3

Fury burns through her at the words so carelessly thrown around that anyone could easily mistake her having a fire core instead of a wind one. First her crummy Creator corners her in a public place forcing her to split her attention to make sure their fight doesn’t affect anyone else or get attacked by the GIW. Second, the public place was the haunt of one of the founders of the Hypocrite League. Third, she was mistaken as a villain by said founder. Fourth, she still doesn’t know what 16th Century Up-Do is really planning because she doubts it is an apology for all the shit he has put her through. And now the Lying-Liar calls the Packer’s Fanatic her father! She doesn’t care about the consequences of attacking the government's pet lap dogs anymore. After that all bets are off!

“He is not,” Ellie twists her wrist so that she is the one holding on to the idiotic heroes wrist instead, “my,” she tightens her hold, “father!” Ellie wails, tapping into her ghostly wail.

Steal Thong screams, kneeling over, desperately trying to cover his bleeding ears. Ellie’s Wail might not have the raw power that her brother’s has without risking destabilization, but with how well she can control it with her wind core, how close Superdouche was, and how sensitive his enhanced senses it was enough to knock him out.

As the hero struggled in the air, not falling only because of the hold Ellie had on his wrist, Boundary-Bastard began to cackle like those cliche cartoon villains. All he needed to complete the picture was to be sitting behind one of his tacky desks while petting his cat, Maddie. How Danny got more creeped out by the Fruitloop naming his cat after Danny’s mam more than getting cloned she’ll never know.

“Oh Danielle,” More Money Than Sense chuckles while wiping an imaginary tear from his eye, “You really are my daughter, aren’t you?”

Ellie growls, waving her arms in her fury, momentarily forgetting the hero she held captive. “I’m not your daughter you Creep. I’m nothing like you.”

All Ellie’s words did was set off Crummy Vampire Cosplay in another cackling fit. “Oh really,” he purred, “then you didn’t just defeat the world’s so-called greatest hero?”

Ellie stills, turning her eyes downwards towards the hero she was holding. Yelping, she dropped her hold on the hero like a hot potato before grabbing him again. As much as she would like to let him go she doesn’t know if a drop from this height would kill him and really didn’t want to find out.

“I didn’t-didn’t mean,” the youngest Halfa stuttered out, not daring to look into the oldest Halfa’s eyes. Not wanting to look at the one you just stated one of her greatest fears out loud. That she was just like the one she hates the most. That she never escaped his grasp. That everything she did was not out of free will, but something she was programmed to do. That she was just a pale imitation of Danny, in the end becoming Vlad’s perfect child. That she was a monster masquerading as a child.

“You didn’t mean to?” Plasmius mockingly parroted back, “Of course not, just like how you didn’t mean to betray Daniel all those years ago.”

Ellie flinched, absentmindedly tightening her hold on the unconscious hero.

“Face it Danielle, no matter what you do all you will ever do is hurt people, no matter what you intend. After all,” Plasmius crows, towering over the trembling clone, “you are my creation.”

To be continued . . .

#danny phantom #dcu #dcxdp #dp + dc #dp x dc crossover #danielle “danni” phantom is called ellie #danny fenton #superman #adoption au #dp x dc #vlad plasmius #clones

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novelistrry · 11 months

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Harry visibly clenched his jaw, but that didn’t stop Y/N from going on, “You want to speak of your deception and your dishonor?”

“I don’t think you have any right to speak about deception or dishonor, Y/N. You parade yourself as the perfect princess, and yet, you lie to your subjects. Do not lecture me on deception or dishonor,” Harry drew the boundary between them, a harsh red line that was clear and hard to miss.

“Is blackmail honorable, Prince?” Y/N seethed.

“Is fucking the stable boy honorable, Princess?” Harry didn’t know if this was actually factual, it was only the assumption he made as to why the stable boy would lie for Y/N for so long.

Y/N stuttered over her words, “I-I’m not!”

Harry is a prince, Y/N is a princess, and Harry is incredibly deceptive

Tropes: Enemies to lovers, forced proximity, fake dating, tension, etc.

Warning: Mentions of panic attacks, nightmares, wet dreams, praise kink, deception, etc!

Word Count: 15k+ with the prologue, 12k without.

Prologue (A/N: only read this if you have not read the blurb, if you’ve already read the blurb you can scroll down to where part one “The Ruse” starts)

Y/N hated Harry.

Actually, she wasn’t quite sure the loathing could run quite as deep as it did. It was almost as if when her eyes locked with his, or she got a whiff of his cologne in the corridor, the hatred would flow through her veins and act as a power source. As if the only fuel she needed was how much she absolutely and utterly loathed that man.

So when her handmaid had told her summertime was officially in action, and she knew what summertime brought, Y/N wanted to stomp her foot like a child and throw herself onto the floor.

Summer was supposed to be excellent, filled with fruits and sunny skies. It was supposed to be warm and lovely, but when Y/N’s parents invite Harry and his family to the palace every summer, it’s hard to find enjoyment in the season.

He was beautiful, there was no doubt about that, and Y/N wasn’t one to deny it. Green mosaic eyes, captivating and alluring like a siren sat atop a rock luring sailors in with that beautiful voice. Only instead of using his rhythmic voice to lure her in, he used the gaze of his eyes. Soft features and delicate sculpting to his face that were so perfect it was absolutely infuriating. He was perfect, truly, in every way possible and the people loved his beautiful face and charming personality.

Except when the large wooden doors shut, leaving Y/N and Harry alone (which wasn’t supposed to happen per Y/N’s request, by the way), his mouth was foul and his charming qualities were consigned to oblivion. Around Y/N, Harry was his worst version of himself and Y/N could not stand him.

“I don’t want him to come this year, Dorothea!” Y/N exclaimed to her chambermaid as her heels clicked against the large tile pieces. She was pacing back and forth, a nervous tick she’s had since she was little.

Sweat accumulated in the pits of her palms, a telling sign that she was nervous, though she would never say that to Dorothea or let it be known to Harry because he would never let her live it down.

See, Y/N and Harry were similar in two ways. One, they were both heir to a royal bloodline. And two, they were both so, so stubborn.

“I know, dear.” Dorothea, the sweetest old lady the palace could find, spent most of her day assisting Y/N in her needs even though there weren’t very many of those. Y/N was relatively low maintenance and hated to be waited on, “It’s only three months.”

With that sentiment, Y/N sat on the edge of her bed that was just made and fluffed, deciding she would spend her day sulking in her room rather than participating in any of the start of summer festivities. As if Dorothea could tell Y/N just wanted to be left alone, she quietly made her way out of the room, and left Y/N to her own devices.

____

Maybe dreams do come true, because the summer season had officially been in swing for three days and there were no sights of Harry, or his family, lingering around the palace. Eventually, she thought she would turn the corner and catch him chatting up a chambermaid with a devilish smile and eyes that would turn a girl into a puddle of melted candy, but it had been three days and even the girls she passed (who were anticipating him heavily) were whispering about the prince being late.

By the fifth day, Y/N was beginning to feel the weight lift off her chest and the ease flood through her veins. Though she didn’t dare to ask her parents about Prince Harry’s whereabouts because that would come with an agonizingly painful interrogation (they truly believed their daughter would wed the man), and a small reprimand because of her prior years sour behavior toward him, though they didn’t know just how insufferable he was in return.

Small talk whisked throughout the palace by the seventh day, explaining that Prince Harry would not be attending this summer season because he was to be married by the end of the year to a princess Y/N had never heard of. A small twitch shot through her chest, but she brushed it off feigning it as relief she never had to deal with him again. While Y/N acted oblivious, everyone knew the reason Harry and his family visited the palace every summer is because the families were hoping for an alliance of sorts— for Harry and Y/N to form a union, to form a bond that would end in marriage. As much as she chalked the twitch in her chest and the hollow in her belly as a feeling of relief, she was confused as to why she wished he would have written. Not necessarily her, but at least to her parents, informing that he would not be there this summer (or any summer for that matter because he was getting married) that way she didn’t have to walk around for days on end, thinking there would be a jumpscare in the corridor or the dining hall.

A flicker of annoyance lit inside of her, an emotion she was familiar with and actually grateful for at the moment because it took away from the abnormal sensation in the chest and abdomen. Why wouldn’t he write? Or his parents at the very least? What kind of person does that? Y/N knew just how hard the chambermaids, the scullery kitchen, and the people who made the palace function as well as it did were working to ensure their guests were accommodated and comfortable for the three months they were staying with them.

It was very unlike Y/N, usually very polite and soft-spoken to feel that kind of irritation. The kind that was so pent up it was making her breathing slightly erratic and she was puffing breaths in and out through her nose. In a very un-Y/N like fashion, she decided that if Prince Harry wasn’t going to write to her, then she was going to write to him and tell him how distasteful his lack of presence or notification on the betrothal was.

Before she could even process what she was doing, she was in the main library of the palace, sitting at the writing table and crafting a heartfelt message to her dear friend Prince Harry, slightly berating him in each line for his so-called prince ethics (or lack-there-of).

Dear Prince Harry,

I am sitting here, writing to tell you how distasteful I find your lack of arrival. It is great news within our palace that you are to be married, which in turn, delays your arrival to our annual summer festivities, and possibly inhibits you from attending these festivities ever again.

A true prince, knowing royal ethics, would have written far in advance, revoking his acceptance to my family’s invitation. It seems that, as always, you are too engrossed in your own endeavors to care about the people around you who have taken the time to prepare for your arrival.

I know our royal household has been working gravely to make certain you and your family have a wonderful stay over the summer, as they have done every summer for the past two years—

“I knew I would find you in here,” his voice, clear and steady, echoed through the library bouncing off the walls and the leather bindings of the books which sat on the shelves of the wall, “You’re always in here doing something or another.”

She knew who it was by the sound of his voice, deep and sultry. He always spoke with such precision and so bluntly that even with her eyes closed, she could tell who it was just by the energy that filled the space. Arrogance and tempting were his two most significant qualities and they always filled the room, leaving her to suffocate in his presence.

Quickly, she jumped up and grabbed the letter, crumpling it in her hands. The ink was so fresh it smeared all over her hands with her rush, and when she looked to see him standing under the doorway, she noted that not a thing about him had changed. He stood with that same arrogance in his posture, his eyes were still that deepsea green, and his lips, chin, and jaw were as beautiful (if not more) as the last time she saw him.

Quirking his eyebrows, he couldn’t help himself. “Now I need to know what was in that letter you were writing. Are you in love, my dear Y/N.”

He took a step forward, and she realized he thought she would just hand the letter over to him, like it was his property to be read. And even though it technically was, the letter was now void because he did, in fact, show up for the summer season. While it may have been intended for him, the content of the letter did not matter, and because he expected her to walk over and drop the letter in the palm of his hand, that absolutely infuriated her.

“I will not give this to you,” Y/N shook her head and furrowed her eyebrows. She almost cringed at the tone of her voice, so abrasive and calloused. Harry brought out the worst in her, he really did. Though, she didn’t understand how Harry could make this frustration brew inside of her when the rest of the Styles were so lovely to be around.

In two long strides, Harry was rounding the writing desk and in front of her. He towered over her, reaching for the crumpled letter in her hands and before she could grasp the paper tighter, it slipped beneath her fingertips and he was reading it aloud.

“I thought you said this wasn’t for me, Princess?” Harry wasn’t asking, it was more rhetorical than anything. The mock in his tone sent a heat through her, plummeting up from where her heart dropped in her stomach to the apples of her cheeks.

He held the letter above the both of them, the words still readable even though the ink was smeared on the page. As he read aloud, Y/N wanted to drop to the floor and cover her ears from listening to speak her foolish words out loud. If anything, the letter was an act of catharsis. She probably would have never actually sent it to Harry, even if she said she was going to, but writing the words on the paper and pretending like she was going to send it to him was semi-therapeutic. By the second line, she was jumping in the air like a fish out of water, trying to grasp the letter from his hands so he couldn’t continue. To make matters worse, he was chuckling between words and flashing wide grins in her direction when he paused.

Eventually, the way she was jumping and frantically trying to snatch the letter from him was just as humiliating as the strong words she had put on that piece of paper he held in his hands, so she stopped and turned away from him so that he could not see the look of horror on her face as he finished reading the letter.

Finally, he got to the part where he walked in and startled her from her writing desk, her thoughts coming to an abrupt halt on the paper when his voice echoed throughout the room, and even though he was done reading the letter, she couldn’t bear to look at him. If there was one thing about Harry, he always had the upper hand with her. Always.

“I wish I hadn’t interrupted your thoughts when I came in here a few moments ago. I’m positive the rest of this letter would have been a great read, and you print your thoughts so eloquently, Y/N.” He was trying to get under her skin, even though he knew he had already burrowed himself under the flesh like a mite the second he walked in the room. That was another one of Harry’s traits— he wanted to see just how much he could push her until she snapped, because he loved watching her snap.

“Enough,” she spoke, barely turning to look at him. She caught a glimpse of him from the corner of her eye, enough for her to squint just barely and for him to know she was giving him a dirty look.

“Well, Y/N, clearly this letter was for me. Was it not?” He was doing it; pushing and pressing until the temper within her flicked on a light and her thoughts rifling through her brain started spewing like fire, the world around them turning to ash with each word that fell from her lips and targeted him like a huntsman and its prey.

“It wasn’t for you—” She began, getting cut off by the prince.

“It clearly says ‘Dear Prince Harry, I am sitting here, writing to y—”

Within under a second, she was turning on her heels to face him once more and trying to pry the letter from his fingers. To no avail, she didn’t think she could handle him reading the letter out loud once more, so she covered her ears and began begging him to stop. The worst part was the feeling she had in her gut, the feeling one gets in their gut and their throat before the tears start forming in their eyes. While Harry had many horrid qualities about him, one of her terrible qualities were tears that formed, not out of sadness, but out of anger. Deeply, she inhaled to smooth out her thoughts and quiet her mind. “Stop, stop, stop.”

Grinning like the devil, he spoke slowly and quietly so any chambermaids passing by could not hear the words he was about to speak to her, “Are you embarrassed, Princess? The girl everyone thinks is so ladylike and polite writing words that would tarnish that sweet reputation.”

“I was never going to send it, and I think you know that,” she countered, and even though she knew he knew that letter was never going to leave her possession, she felt like she needed to reiterate that point.

Carefully and slowly—almost painfully slowly— he brought his finger to her cheeks and swiped across to feel the heat radiating off of her skin and she knew he was gaining even more satisfaction at the heat in her cheeks confirming his question, that she was embarrassed by him finding her letter. To rub salt in the wound, he folded the letter up and stuffed it in the pit of his pocket where she would not dare to fish out, as it was not very polite to stick your hand in someone else’s pocket, “For safekeeping,” he stated.

Those two words made her want to do it— stick her hand in his pocket and fish the letter out, tear it in little tiny pieces, and then stomp on the shreds of paper right in front of him, but she wouldn’t do it because she, unlike him, did not lack manners.

“You are absolutely unbearable, Prince. Do not think my opinion on you has changed. I can assure you it has not,” she wanted to get under his skin the way he got under hers, so she added, “Where is your betrothed?”

He paused for a moment, searching for the words, “I am not to be married, Y/N.”

The tone was cut and brief, not the same tone he had when she was pushing his buttons, but a clear line was drawn showing her this is where the boundary was placed, and as much as she wanted to upset him the way he upset her, Y/N did not want to pick and pry about his presumably failed engagement. Though, she did not blame the girl for not wanting to marry someone with such an insufferable attitude. And maybe, just maybe, she also didn’t want to hear about the girl. She didn’t want Harry to talk about how beautiful she was, or what her hobbies were. She didn’t want to know a thing about her or how she wormed her way into the heart of someone so aloof and out of touch with the idea of love. To put it plainly, she didn’t want to hear about their courtship and what he did to make her swoon.

Y/N would never admit it, but the first time she ever met Harry, she was taken with him. And then he opened his mouth, all-knowing and witty bordering intolerable.

“Well, then,” Y/N didn’t quite know what to say in response, seeming to be more uncomfortable with the idea of him getting married than he was.

With a mere couple inches between them, he leaned down to whisper something in her ear. Soft lips grazed the tops of her ears, a warm heat shooting through her, and though she was disgusted with herself for having such an instinctual reaction to his body and his lips so close to her skin, she was graceful enough to remind herself that it was only natural for her core to stir and her stomach to flip.

And when he finally spoke, his lips moved against her ear, “I am going to enjoy playing with you this summer, Y/N.”

She wanted to scream. She almost did.

Instead she took a step back, gasping and brushing out the wrinkles in her dress, “I absolutely loathe you.”

“I love that you loathe me,” he replied before turning on his heels and walking out of the library.

Y/N knew it was going to be a long summer filled with taunts from Harry.

And much to her dismay, that night she dreamed about his lips pressing against her.

I. The Ruse

Y/N had told Dorothea she was feeling too ill to attend the breakfast table that morning. Albeit, the truth of the matter was that she was shaken by her dreams poisoned by Harry— maybe they were good dreams about his lips, his fingers, the way he caressed her cheek, but the fact that it was Harry doing those things to her was enough to deduce it was a nightmare. A terrible, terrible nightmare.

“Should I fetch you some tea?” Dorothea pressed her hand to Y/N’s forehead, feeling for a fever, but when the skin under her hands was cool rather than clammy, Dorothea raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

“No, no,” Y/N swung the covers over her, revealing her nightgown. Stiffly, she planted her feet on the wooden planks beneath the bed as she made a show of stretching, “Don’t fuss over me. I’m already feeling much better, Dorothea.”

“Better enough to attend breakfast?” Dorothea questioned her, the brow still raised in suspicion, and Y/N knows she should just tell Dorothea the truth but it was her stubborn nature that prevented her from letting Dorothea know about her encounter with the Prince yesterday.

“I believe it’s late anyway,” Y/N reasoned, “I will fetch something when the dining hall has been cleared out.”

Dorothea only shook her head in disappointment, but Y/N pretended not to notice.

______________

In an effort to maintain his dignity, Harry had to stop looking at the chestnut oak double doors separating the dining hall from the rest of the castle. Each time a servant opened the door to replenish something on the table, Harry’s head snapped over, hoping it would be Y/N that walked through the doors just so he could see her again.

It was agonizing, honestly. She was sweeter than droplets of nectar. Bees were probably drawn to her, knowing her personality was as sweet as the honey they produced, attracting to her like the pollen they longed to search for.

That, precisely, is why she aggravated Harry so much. From the time Harry was born, it was engraved in his brain that he was a ruler; he was honorable, decisive, and empathetic. All the qualities that made up a leader, and he knew it, too. Though, he was self-aware enough to know where he was lacking, and he was lacking (probably) the most important quality a leader can have—compassion and the ability to connect.

For Y/N, that was something that came so naturally. She could connect with just about anyone. The princess blended in with the common folk so... Seamlessly, it was absolutely infuriating. Harry had tried, plenty of times, to blend in, to connect with his people and his royal household but he could never achieve it the way Y/N did. She was a real princess, and it made him feel like a fraud.

Years had passed with him learning about how to rule, the best way, the honorable way. For Y/N, it seemed that she was born with the knowledge, never having to lift a finger or read a book.

So it pleased him, angering her to the point of outbursts. In her court, she was polite, loved, and deemed the absolute most charismatic one can be. When she was just about shaking with rage, foul words dripping from her lips, that is when Harry was content— when she looked less like a statue, the perfect creation this court has formed her to be, and more like a human. More like him.

That is when the irritation he felt toward her stopped festering, just for a moment in time.

And he knew he was absolutely terrible for it, absolutely atrocious, but he wanted to corrupt her. Ruin the molding she was fit into.

Sounds of fingers fiddling on the doorknob caused him to look up, and when a servant walked in with another tray of warm bread and fresh butter, his eyes averted to his plate to avoid the teasing that was about to come from the King’s Hand— or well, Prince’s Hand, really, since he wouldn’t truly be the King’s Hand until Harry’s coronation.

But he was too late, and the words were already coming out of Niall’s mouth, “If you’re going to keep glancing up every time someone walks in, wishing her to walk through those doors, then why don’t you just go seek her out?”

“I don’t wish for her to walk through those doors, Niall,” Harry’s jaw tensed as he spoke, the inclination that he was waiting for her making him somewhat irate, “I am merely observing, isn’t that important? To be aware of one’s surroundings?”

“Yes,” Niall sucked in his teeth, moving his gaze from the angle of Harry’s jaw back to his plate of food, “Indeed it is.”

Harry spread butter on a fresh piece of bread, ignoring Niall’s comment, and when Niall realized Harry wasn’t going to say anything else, he continued to poke the bear. “Why didn’t you marry Duchess Violet when you had the opportunity? Why push the wedding? So you could come here? See her?”

A hiss left Harry’s mouth before answering in a hushed voice, low enough that the people around them could not hear. “Why so many questions, Niall?”

“I’m trying to understand,” he shrugged his shoulders, the level of his voice now matching Harry’s.

“I pushed the wedding because I did not want to marry the Duchess, Niall. Simple as that. I came here because my parents are convinced that Princess Y/N and I will form an attachment if I spend enough time with her. That is what they want after all.”

“Then what?” Niall’s questioning was causing sweat to bead on Harry’s forehead. He didn’t want to think of the then what factor.

“I suppose when I return home, the arrangement between the Duchess and I will initiate once more.” Harry cocked his head over to Niall, dropping the piece of bread on his plate. Suddenly, he wasn’t hungry anymore.

“What is your game here this summer, Prince?” Niall asked, locking eyes with Harry’s whose eyes were the same pigment as a field of green clovers populating in the crisp months of Spring, mischief dancing in his irises.

Slowly and carefully he gave Niall the essence of his plan, “I will convince the Princess to form an alliance with me— A facade, if you will. We will put on a show, and before our attachment is sealed with a ring, she will say she can no longer do it. And I will be so heartbroken, to the nation’s knowledge, that they will not pester me about marrying. I do not need to marry. I will not need to marry.”

“And will you be heartbroken, Prince?” This seemed to be Niall’s only concern.

“No,” Harry paused and then added on, “I do not believe so.”

“And what if she does not agree to a facade?”

“Then I will charm her. Seduce her.” This was all Harry was willing to say on the matter as he pushed his chair up.

______________

Y/N, to her credit, was full of secrets.

Every now and again, she would poke her head out, scan the corridor, then jump back into her bedchamber when she heard the sound of heels clicking against the flooring.

And she’s never felt quite so childish before. Usually, when Harry came for the summer, Y/N didn’t go out of her way to avoid him, but after their interaction in the study she didn’t think she was ready to face him yet.

If Y/N was honest with herself, two years ago when she first met the prince, she was quite smitten. And maybe it was the fact that he was engaged to someone else. .. Someone Y/N didn’t know. Maybe it was the fact that he didn’t bother to tell her, or write to her family that got her so worked up. Maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that someone wormed their way into his icy chest and planted a seed of fire that caused him to want them.

She had trouble admitting it to herself, but she fancied Harry more than she let on. The only person in the entire castle that knew just how deep her feelings for Harry ran was Dorothea, though the words had never left Y/N’s lips and they might not ever.

Rage has simmered in her gut, boiling over into her fingertips that flowed against the page where she etched words onto a canvas that conveyed her grievances with Harry. The memory of her sitting there, rage-writing a letter she never intended to send, and Harry snatching it out of her hands and reading aloud sent a churn in her stomach, the humiliation of the moment festering inside her once more.

The true reason she had been avoiding him, at last. She was utterly embarrassed by the entire ordeal. All he had to do was read in between the lines, and all of her feelings were on display. Harry having that letter was a different kind of vulnerability.

So she snuck out to the stables, where her good friend Brad worked as the stable boy. Y/N and Brad shared a secret the people did not know, it was kept between the two of them, and she liked Brad for the fact he has known her secret for about four years and has not told a soul has made her like them all the more.

Boots trudged in the muddy grass as she made her way out to the stables, where Brad tended to her horses (and the other horses, of course). Birds cooed in the sky, the sing-song noises filling her ears and putting her at peace for the first time since yesterday.

When she had finally made it to the big barn, nearly a quarter mile away from the actual castle, Brad was nowhere to be seen. Quietly, she lurked around, craning her head around corners and scouting him out.

Right as she was about to call out his name, because it was very unlikely for him to not be here, she rounded one more corner and saw him nestled next to the Prince— next to Harry.

She almost audibly groaned when she saw him standing there, invading her space. Where she liked to go to clear her head, but before a noise could escape her lips, she realized if she slowly backed out of the hall then she might escape the pair before either of them saw her.

As she slowly tried to back out of the hall encompassed by horse stables, the two rather close together, both snapped their heads in her direction. Two sets of eyes locked with hers, her mouth watering as her stomach turns nervously when Harry’s green gaze of disapproval scans her up and down.

“Y/N?” Brad asked, projecting his tone down the length of the hall so she could hear him clearly, “What are you doing all the way down there?”

“Nothing!” Her tone projected as well, matching Brad’s. “I was thinking I could see Freya, but I see you’re busy.”

“Why don’t you come closer, Princess? So we don’t have to shout too loud.” Harry said, and Y/N knew the look upon his face. Whenever he was about to do something devious, a smirk would spread across his lips, his eyes sparkling with the game he was about to partake in.

And Y/N doesn’t know why she listened to him, why she didn’t just turn away, but before she could tell herself to stop, she was walking toward the both of them. Each step felt shameful, her eyes averting from Harry’s and to Brad. She couldn’t stand the way Harry looked at her, like she was a toy, like he could burn holes through her soul if he really wanted to.

She shifted her body to angle more toward Brad, not completely cutting Harry out of the circle they were now standing in, but angling herself enough to show that her body language was more open to Brad than she was to Harry.

“Isn’t this one Freya?” Harry pointed to the stall directly across from them. There stood her light gray horse, mane and tail braided perfectly.

Actually, if someone saw Y/N and Freya standing side by side, they would simply know Freya was meant for Y/N by the way she holds herself; strong, with a gentle demeanor radiating off her. The only problem is that people would never see Freya and Y/N side by side, because Y/N (as much as she loved Freya) was too afraid to take her out of her stall. In Y/N’s kingdom, it was inevitable that every young prince or princess had to ride, because at their coronation one of the requirements was to ride in on their horse. The issue wasn’t that Y/N didn’t know how to ride. She did. The issue was that Y/N wouldn’t because of an accident that happened three years ago, leaving Y/N scared to ever get on the back of a horse, or to even walk around with her lead rope in hand. Nobody knew, except Brad, that Y/N hadn’t been on the back of her horse since the accident, it was a secret the two of them kept together.

“Yes,” Y/N turned to him, just slightly, “That is her.”

“Go on, then,” Harry motioned toward her, “We don’t mind if you take her out.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped, glancing at Brad to see if he could help her worm her way out of this situation. He has helped her before, when her parents would find her in the stable and ask if she wanted to go on a ride with them. Brad would say something like, Princess Y/N just put Freya back, they went on a lengthy ride earlier and Freya is resting now. It made Y/N feel selfish to know how much trouble Brad could get in for lying, but she was too much of a coward to tell anyone her fears.

Brad interjected, just not with what she hoped for, “Y/N doesn’t ride.”

Confusion contorted Y/N’s features as he outed her secret to the one person she didn’t want to know an inkling about her. “Brad!”

Brad’s eyes widened slightly, his brows raising as he replied, “I’m sorry, Y/N! I thought it was okay for him to know? It’s not as if he lives in the palace.”

Harry stepped closer, putting a pin in the conversation Brad and Y/N were beginning to have right in front of him, “Why doesn’t she ride?”

Brad waited, momentarily, for Y/N to respond but when her lips stayed sealed, withholding the information from Harry he decided to come clean for her. “Y/N has panic attacks when she gets too close to horses. Nobody knows.”

At least he didn’t tell Harry why horses made her panic.

“Yet you come out here anyway?”

Heedfully, she took in a deep breath and began to collect her thoughts which seemed to be swimming everywhere. These past two days, she had never felt so exposed, so bare in front of him. First with the letter, and now with Brad’s indiscretion to Y/N’s secret. “As you may already know, horse riding is big in our culture, so I come out here to keep up appearances. And, I do love my Freya.”

“You’re a fraud, then? A liar?” Harry sucked in a breath, that grin teetering on amusement— a fine line between pure and utter cruelty.

“If that’s what you will call it,” Y/N tried not to let the emotions welling inside show on her face, remaining neutral and stoic was the best way to ignore Harry. She, too, could sink her claws in him and tear him apart by simply ignoring him. “I must be going.”

Swiftly, she turned, paying no mind to Freya and blocking out the snickering coming from Harry as she walked out of the barn. Her boots trudged in the mud once more, and the frustration brewing inside was threatening to spill over, though she would not allow it to until she was alone in the privacy of her own room.

The palace was in plain sight, she only needed to walk a straight narrow path before she could take a side door to the main corridor and scurry off to her room (hopefully avoiding many of the household staff on the way). It was unfair, but she wanted to yell at Brad for offering Harry such private information. Should she blame him, though? He’s been keeping her secret for nearly three years, lying for her, and obviously he didn’t know that Harry had brutish tendencies— especially when it came to her. In fact, she thought back to it. The way the two of them were standing, how Harry was shifting closer to Brad with each word. If Y/N didn’t know better, Harry was trying to turn Brad into putty in his hands which honestly might have been more of an issue than him knowing her secret panic attacks she would have in the privacy of Freya’s stall. Was Harry interested in Brad, trying to charm him with his good looks and that personality that oozed sweetness? Y/N may have never seen that side of him, but amongst the chambermaids he was quite the sweet-talker.

“Y/N,” a low, gruff voice called from behind her. When she tried to pick up the pace, she only heard the shuffling of Harry’s boots behind her go faster.

It wasn’t like she would be able to escape him, if he truly wanted to pester her he would find her in her bedchamber. It was better to have a discussion with him out in the open instead of him tainting her bedchamber with his attitude.

“What?” She turned on her heels and snapped her head toward him, the tone of her voice laced with anger.

“I wanted to have a discussion with you,” he took a few steps closer so they were only an arms distance from each other. He wanted his next words to be just barely above a whisper.

“Then speak,” Y/N pursed her lips together, crossing her arms so that she could shield herself against him in some way. Clearly, crossing her arms wasn’t actually going to protect her from him, but in a way, it felt like a mental shield, keeping him out of her head and far away.

“It has been two days of me gracing you with my company, and within those two days, I have obtained a letter I’m convinced you would not like to fall into the wrong hands, and I have discovered you have been deceiving many people and getting the stable boy to lie for you,” Harry’s pointer finger traced under her chin, noting the shiver that ran down her back as she stepped away from his touch, “Now, if you do not want that letter circulating throughout the palace, and if you do not want everyone to know you are a fraud, then you will offer me something I need.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Harry was blackmailing her? She had always taken him for possessing a certain cruelty about him, but never thought he would stoop low to the point where blackmail (quite literally when she takes the letter into consideration) would be hanging over her head like a bundle of mistletoe.

“What is wrong with you?” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, stepping backward as her arms tightened around herself once more.

“What is your answer, Y/N?” He spoke with such an airy indifference that she almost couldn’t tell if he was playing a very humorless joke on her.

“I don’t believe I have much of a choice in the matter!” She barked back, and that flicker of anger displayed on her face and in her tone of voice made his lips curve up into a cursed smile, so she tried to cool herself down and remain stoic— just as unbothered as he seemed to be.

“I am giving you a choice, darling,” Harry said, the word rolling off his tongue like the pet name was second nature to him, “One option is unfavorable, though. For you, at the very least.”

It was written across his face; either answer she gave him was a win for him. This was a situation where she was going to lose, a situation where the upper hand was in his court and he was playing the game with no mercy. If she said yes, she was indebted to him, owing him a favor. And if she said no, the shame of her actions would not only reflect on her, but her family as well.

“Tell me what you need,” an exasperated sigh she didn’t mean to let out, falling from her lips.

“Agree first.” Harry was a politician first, a prince second, and a human being last.

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes, “Do you believe I haven’t learned to never agree to something binding without knowing the stipulations first, Prince?”

“And do you think I would present my vulnerabilities to you without an answer first? I tell you, you don’t agree with the clause, and now you know what I need. Why should I do that?” His reasoning was valid to her, though she would never admit to it.

“Then my answer is no,” Y/N began turning on her heels to walk away; get as far away as she possibly could, but she stopped in her tracks when he caught up behind her, hooking his fingers around her waist and pressing his front against her back.

Incredibly cool and collected, he pressed his lips against her ears before he spoke, causing a chill to rip down her spine and a tightening coil in the pit of her stomach. “You’ve made your choice, then. Tonight in the dining hall, while we are in the middle of dinner with the most important people, I will stand and tell everyone of your fraudulent activities. In fact, I might even embellish it— explain how you’ve been keeping the stable boy so quiet with your mouth. Do you know what that means, princess? I will tell them how you’ve squandered his innocence, and when the shame is rising from here,” Harry’s fingers trailed from her hip to her stomach, and then all the way up to the apple of her cheeks, “To here… That is when I will twist the knife, and begin reading your finest letter aloud. And when you are crying, I will not stop.”

Y/N turned back around, stepping away from him to get distance before spitting out, “You are cruel, Harry. So, very, cruel.”

“You are flattering me,” he quirked an eyebrow, and she so badly wanted to connect her fist to that stupid smirk on his face.

“Fine,” Y/N nodded her head, refusing to give him any more leverage, “I will help you.”

“Great, then I will court you for the entire summer, and just before it is time for me to propose to you… You will come up with some excuse to break it off, and I will pretend I am utterly heartbroken and need time to heal.”

Y/N was shocked his ruse was not nearly as bad as she had expected it to be. She thought maybe he would be requesting her to break into the general’s office and steal classified military documents, or something absolutely absurd and dangerous. But a courtship under false pretenses was… Dishonorable, but not a crime.

“That’s it?” She shrugged her shoulders. “Why?”

“Because,” he was beginning to feel frustrated, and Y/N could tell by the way he pinched the bridge of his nose in between his fingers. “I do not want to marry the Dutchess, and I fear if I do not place a ring on your finger, that is my destiny. However, if you end our courtship and I feign heartbreak, how could anyone tell me I need to marry when I lost the love of my life.” He rolled his eyes as he spoke the words.

“And—” Y/N began to ask another question before Harry interrupted her.

“That is all the information I will give you on the topic.”

“Fine,” she, herself, was done with the conversation anyway. There were much better things for her to do than scheme with Harry, “Now if you would leave me be, I would like some space from you.”

“Take what you need, because after dinner we will be attached at the hip once we announce our courtship.”

This might be the death of Y/N.

______________

Pretending to be under the weather was not going to cut it this evening, Y/N knew she couldn’t get out of another meal with her family, Harry’s, and the other important people that made it to the dining hall list without a stern talking to from Dorothea.

On top of that, she knew that Harry was going to announce their courtship, and he probably wouldn’t be too keen on the idea of announcing it without her there. Actually, she wasn’t too keen on the idea, either. Who knows what he would say?

With thoughts racing through her head, and the click of her ballet flats on the mosaic tile, she made her way down the corridor until she was standing just outside of the tall oak doors. As soon as they opened, she would find her seat, and her fate for the summer would be sealed.

“Looking nervous, darling.” Harry spoke from behind her, creeping up on her for the third time since he’s been here. Rolling her eyes was beginning to become a natural reaction at this point.

“Don’t call me that,” Y/N hissed out, barely taking her eyes from the door as he walked up behind her so he was nearly touching her backside as his fingers reached for the knob and turned it slowly.

It was quiet when her eyes locked with her mother and father’s eyes, and when she slid her gaze over to Harry’s parents, she couldn’t help but feel shame that ticked in her lower stomach. It was one thing to be deceptive to her own parents; it was another to be deceptive to someone else’s. This was definitely something she was going to bring up to Harry later.

Dorothea was sitting beside Y/N’s mother, and when she noticed her, Dorothea offered an approving smile and a small glance toward Harry’s direction. On multiple occasions, Dorothea had tried to convince Y/N that Harry was not that horrible as she knew him since he was a young boy, but Y/N would gawk and scoff and exclaim with exasperation: Why are you taking his side? Now, Dorothea had believed Harry finally charmed Y/N just enough to weasel his way into her heart, but little did Dorothea know, it was quite the opposite.

Dinner was going by smoothly. Every now and again, Harry would make some small talk with Y/N, and as soon as the pair began speaking softly under their breath, the entire table would stop talking to hear what the two of them were conversing about. It was making Y/N rather anxious to have so much attention thrown in her general direction, but she supposed if she were in their shoes, she would be just as curious.

Before the meal came to a close, Harry tapped a shiny piece of silverware against his glass, gaining everyone’s attention. Though, Y/N wanted to tell him if he wanted all eyes on him, all he would have to do is look at her, whisper her name, and the chattering amongst the table would cease so everyone could hone in on their private conversation. “Everyone, I wanted to announce mine and precious Y/N’s courtships. After two long summers of denying our tension amongst one another, we decided it was in everyone’s best interest if we gave our compatibility a shot.”

A couple people clapped, and Y/N tried so hard to repress the eyeroll and the scoff that wanted to surface so badly. Dorothea shot a wink in her direction, so Y/N offered a small smile because a grimace would lead to questioning from her later, and lying to Dorothea was not something she felt too good about. Y/N had already deceived her once today by feigning illness, and twice with Harry’s speech of their courtship, but she did not want to have a separate conversation with Dorothea that contained the weight of her lies.

As soon as dinner ended, Y/N found herself rushing from the dining hall, nausea filling her gut as bile threatened to creep up her throat. In a few turns, she was down the corridor, and finally, she was on the terrace, breathing in the crisp night air. Stars illuminated the sky, the moon brightening the path she was walking down, and she should have known better to think she would get just one moment alone (or one moment where Harry was not creeping up behind her).

“Y/N, I want to talk,” Harry whispered, although the words may have been hushed, but they were on the louder side like a… Hushed shout?

“I’m not sure I would like to talk right now,” Y/N replied back, kicking scattered rocks out of the path they were taking that led to the gardens on the right side of the palace.

“I promise I will leave you alone for the night after this,” Harry sounded sincere, “I just want to work out the logistics with you.”

“The logistics with me?” Y/N scoffed, pivoting on her heels and throwing her hands up in exasperation. The tone of her voice was laced with venom, and the scrunch of her nose which led all the way up to her eyebrows, giving her the look of an angry kitten was enough to tell Harry she was quite upset with the ordeal, “You mean, you would like to speak of your deception?”

Harry visibly clenched his jaw, but that didn’t stop Y/N from going on, “You want to speak of your deception and your dishonor?”

“Is blackmail honorable, Prince?” Y/N seethed.

“Is fucking the stable boy honorable, Princess?” Harry didn’t know if this was actually factual, it was only the assumption he made as to why the stable boy would lie for Y/N for so long.

Y/N stuttered over her words, “I-I’m not!”

“Maybe you’re not,” he looked her up and down, the sinister glare in his eyes making her want to recoil into herself, “But you want to.”

Y/N did not deny her attraction to the stable boy, though, she had never fantasized of him in such salacious ways, and that little flicker of emotion that ran across her features was something Harry picked up on immediately.

“Would it break your little heart, Princess?” Harry took a step closer, the vein on his neck popping out as he clenched his jaw harder, “If I let your stable boy lay in my bed?”

Y/N gasped. She had never heard someone be so… Vulgar.

The response she was looking for swam through her head but she couldn’t quite locate it as she filed through the crevices of her brain. How could she answer that? To her luck, Harry was on his heels and walking toward the direction of the stables so she didn’t have to respond to him. He muttered out the grumpiest, “I’ll find you later,” and Y/N’s heart sank as she realized Harry was trying to find Brad to either bed him, or tell Brad about her embarrassing little crush. Y/N had never felt so exposed in her own territory.

______________

“This is never going to work, Niall!” Harry exclaimed, kicking off his riding boots and pacing his way back and forth in Niall’s personal cabin. Niall was the Prince’s Hand, his second in command, but he needed his space. When they would come for the summer, Niall would occupy the cottage on the outskirts of the palace, the only way to get there was by horseback, which is part of the reason he felt so comfortable being open with Niall. There was no possible way the princess would be strolling down the corridor and overhear him chatting with Niall when they were so far away, and the only way she could get there was by horseback, which he knew she wouldn’t do.

“What do you mean?” Niall looked over at him, pouring a glass of sparkling wine that was located on the bar top near the kitchenette. Harry noted that Niall was pouring two glasses, one for Harry and one for himself.

“She’s too stubborn.” Harry sighed out, taking the glass from Niall as he reached his hand out, then plummeted into one of the cushion filled chairs in the corner of the room. “She won’t be able to go through with it.”

“And you have leverage over her, do you not? I thought that was why you were so sure of your plan?” Niall pressed the frosted glass to his lips, then tipped his head back.

Harry followed suit, tipping his head back after pressing the cool glass to his lip. The slight carbonation of the alcohol, and the burn of the alcohol itself singed the back of his throat before he shook his head and shut his eyes tightly. “I do have leverage as I told you about. I fear if she backs out, I would never be able to put her through that, though.”

“It was my understanding that you didn’t care and you do not like her. If that is the case, then what is the issue, Prince?” Niall questioned.

“I do not care about her and I do not like her, but what would it say about me if I grasped that leverage and exposed her so openly like that…” Harry’s voice trailed off as he brought the glass back to his lips once more.

“So you do not care about her, and you do not like her, but you care about what others would think if you humiliated her so publicly?” Niall was beginning to understand.

“Exactly,” Harry agreed.

Niall didn’t like giving Harry advice like this, but he was loyal to Harry first and always. When he began fitting the puzzle pieces together of the dynamic between Harry and Y/N, before he could even process his own thought process he blurted, “If you think she is too stubborn, then change that. Have you thought that maybe the reason she is so stubborn around you is because of the fact you are so mean to her. Stop being so cruel. Be a gentleman, make her like you. Hell, make her even love you, and at the end of the summer, if you still do not believe you are the type of man to marry, then begin corresponding with the Duchess again, forcing Y/N to break it off with you. You told her it was all a ruse, then so be it. However, that does not mean you have to make her life a living hell. You can charm her, make her fall for you, and when you invite the Duchess to the ball at the end of the summer, Y/N will have no other choice than to call it off.”

Harry paused, sitting upright in the chair rather than slouching over, “So you are saying to charm her still, even though she’s already agreed to the facade with me?”

“Precisely,” Niall pushed the guilty feeling down.

“And at the end of the summer when I want her to call it off, let her find me entangled with Duchess Violet?” Harry was the one asking questions now.

“Yes,” Niall let out a small breath.

“Smart man,” was all Harry said, and that was the end of the conversation as Harry slipped his boots on, bolted out the door, mounted his horse, and rode back to the main palace so he could talk to Y/N.

______________

Y/N was still in the garden, ruminating over the argument she just had with Harry. How could someone be so handsome, resembling a person who was probably carved by the most delicate angels themselves, have such a crude mouth and an evil demeanor? If Harry was a little bit nicer, she thinks he would be the easiest person to fall in love with.

“Y/N?” Harry whispered, and when she turned around to look at him, he noted the way the light from the moon reflected off the top of his curly brown hair, where it hit the highs of his cheekbones, and she noted the delicacy in his sea moss green eyes.

“I’m too exhausted to argue, Prince.” She remained grounded, her feet planted into the soil. Her cheeks were still wet from the tears spilled over after Harry left her feeling silly, and even though the streaks remained on her cheeks, there were no more droplets forming in her eyes.

He stepped closer, so close that his body was almost pressed against the front of hers. She noted the way his hand lingered by her hip, wanting badly to close the gap between them by positioning his hand behind her and pulling her close. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” She was strong, she was going to be tough.

“I feel terrible, Y/N,” the sincerity in his eyes was enough to send a ripple of shock through her. Honestly, the sincerity he felt was enough to send a ripple of shock through him. It was true, he did feel terrible. He never meant to make her cry.

“It’s fine,” Y/N said, beginning to turn away from him, but he caught her with his hand around her hip, then closed the gap between them so there was no space between the pair.

“It’s not,” he disagreed, “I… I want to be your friend, Y/N.”

“My friend?” She was so fucking confused.

“Yes,” he nodded his head, creeping his free hand under her chin and forcing her to look up and directly at him. “I do not want to be the only person benefiting from this deception.”

“Okay,” she didn’t know what else to say.

“Let me teach you how to feel comfortable on a horse again. I can give you lessons.” He decided showing her how to be confident atop a horse would be something she would benefit from. She wouldn’t have to feel confined to the palace anymore or lie to the people around her.

“So you can belittle me in our lessons?” Y/N asked, raising a brow at him.

“No, Y/N. No more of that, I can assure you.” He sounded so sincere, he was convincing himself. Maybe the truth was that arguing with her, getting under her skin, and picking her apart was exhausting and he didn’t like feeling like the worst version of himself around her. He was so confused. So confused. He hated this perfect princess exterior she put on, but he disliked being an asshole more.

“You really want to help me?” She could hardly believe it.

“Yes,” he dropped his hand from her chin and her hip, taking a step away from her, “Tomorrow morning, meet me at the stables.”

With that, he turned away and found his way back to his bedchambers. Harry really needed to decompress.

______________

The next morning, Harry found her in the stables. She had gotten there before him and was waiting by Freya’s stall. Brad wasn’t there quite yet. It was so early, the sun was just starting to poke through the horizon.

Colors of red, pink, and gold reflected from his skin as he approached her, and Y/N noted that the colors peaking from the horizon were almost as beautiful as him. While the sun rise was beautiful, it was not nearly as beautiful as him.

“Are you ready?” Harry asked, walking up to where she leaned against Freya’s stall.

“I’m ready,” she explained.

They had spent hours talking about how to form a bond with a horse, how to treat a horse, and where not to stand when around a horse. They talked about how to saddle a horse up, how to put the bit in a horse’s mouth without injuring yourself or the animal you need to be taking care of. Harry was actually a very good teacher. He wasn’t pushing her out of her comfort zone, he wasn’t belittling her for the things she was taught when she was younger but forgot how to maneuver. Harry even brought up what Brad had said about her having panic attacks when she was too close to horses, and told her that if she was feeling anxious to let him know, they could find a spot where she felt safe. Overall, working with him wasn’t too bad.

Y/N tried not to talk about the incident that made her so fearful of horses to begin with, and as much as Harry wanted to know why she was so afraid of them, he didn’t want to push and pry. He knew what it was like when people pushed their way into your personal space, and it was his biggest pet peeve, so he wasn’t going to subject her to something he hated deep in his bones.

Brad was surprised the first day when he came in, and saw Y/N, with shaky hands, petting on Freya. Freya seemed to enjoy it, and Harry stabilized her shaky arm as she reached in the window of the stall and pet her, whispering small encouragements in her ear. He was standing directly behind her, the front of his body pressed to her back as she reached in.

“Good girl,” Harry said, his fingers clutched around her elbow to combat the shakiness in her arm.

“She is a rather good girl,” Y/N said, touching the softness on Freya’s nose.

“No,” Harry laughed out, his fingers still gently holding her elbow steady, “I was talking about you. You’re being a very good girl.”

Y/N felt the heat rise to her cheeks, but chose to say nothing, and much to her good luck, Brad had finally showed up for the day, amazed at how Harry stood there with Y/N and held her from behind as she touched Freya.

“Wow,” Brad said, dropping some of the grain he was holding into the stall next to Freya’s, “You’re doing very well, Y/N.”

Y/N didn’t think she could handle all the compliments, so she redirected the attention to Harry, “It’s all him. He's a great teacher.”

“I bet he is,” Brad shot a look toward Harry, a smirk forming on the edges of both their mouths. It made Y/N wonder if they actually had some sort of relationship like Harry hinted at the night he told her he was going to bed Brad in order to spite her. “I just hope you don’t have nightmares tonight.”

“Nightmares?” Harry’s grip around her elbow tightened, pulling her arm out of Freya’s stall and letting Y/N’s arm fall to her side. “What does he mean?”

Y/N turned around, and threw a scowl in Brad’s direction. Her back pressed against the stall door as she let a sheepish smile appear on her face when she turned all her attention toward Harry. “I used to have nightmares about the incident.”

Harry’s lips pressed into a hardline, a serious look glossed in his eyes. “If you start having nightmares again, tell me. Please.”

“I will.”

______________

Y/N didn’t know what to do about the dreams she was having regarding Harry. It seemed that every single night her dreams of Harry were becoming more and more graphic. The first night she dreamt of him was the first night he was in the palace, and she dreamt of what his lips felt like on hers.

The second time she dreamt of him, she dreamt of the ways his hands felt around her body, and ever since then she had been having that same dream of him, over and over again. He would start by kissing her neck and touching her all over, calling her sweet names, and making her cry out in pleasure.

Every morning she woke up feeling debauched, and when she would meet Harry at the stables in the morning, she tried her best to not let the emotion flood her face. Sometimes she was scared that he could just look at her and know she was having inappropriate dreams about him.

A week had passed of her spending time with Harry. She learned about his favorite food, what he loved about his own kingdom, and even found out that the Marigold flower was native to his kingdom.

“You kind of remind me of a Marigold.” Harry said softly.

“Why is that?” She looked over at him, as he began putting the bit on Freya. Y/N wasn’t ready to ride yet, but today she was going to walk Freya along the property with Harry to get used to her holding the lead rope in her hand.

“They’re bright and beautiful,” Harry buckled the bit, pulling the lead rope through as he spoke to Y/N, “A lot like you.”

“I think we’ve come a long way,” Y/N noted, grabbing the lead rope with shaky fingers when Harry handed it to her.

When Harry realized that her fingers were shaking and her eyes were nervously glancing around, he grabbed the lead rope back from her and began walking Freya out of the barn and toward a trail nearby, “I’ll walk her for now. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

They walked together, talking about the most random things and getting to know each other. Y/N couldn’t believe she didn’t like Harry at first. Fine, he was slightly annoying, and when she thought about how she was technically still being blackmailed it made her a little furious, but when he was being so pleasant and lovely, she tried not to think of those things.

On top of all that, how could she say she still disliked him when she was dreaming of him every single night?

“Why don’t you try holding the lead rope as we walk, and I’ll hold your hand over it?” He suggested, coming to a stop in the middle of the trail. As much as he liked walking Freya, he did want Y/N to make some progress.

“I think I can do that,” Y/N agreed, grabbing the rope in her hand and locking it securely between her fingers. Her hand wasn’t on the rope for even two seconds before Harry threw his hand around hers and gave her a look that she knew said I’m here for you.

Her heart nearly skipped a beat as his hand enveloped hers and his eyes brought comfort to her hammering heart. For a moment, she closed her eyes and imagined how his lips would taste— probably sickeningly sweet. She thought of the way he might moan against her, like he did in her dream. The vibrations flooding through her, feeling like pure ecstasy.

What the hell was she doing?

______________

Y/N thought back to the first night Harry had been to the palace. That night, she had a dream of Harry pressing his lips against hers. The more time she spent with Harry, the more she dreamt about him at night, and as the days passed, the more graphic they got.

Today wasn’t the first time she had woken up with a puddle between her legs due to a steamy dream she had about Harry, though, it was the first time she had reached her climax in her sleep and she couldn’t help the shame that picked away inside her.

Quickly, she cleaned herself off and began putting on her riding clothes to meet Harry in the stables.

______________

This morning, Y/N could barely look Harry in the eye, and he wondered why that was. They had been working together for a little over two weeks now, and she was growing much more comfortable with him each day. Actually, it was rather frustrating for him to find out that he somewhat enjoyed spending time with her. She was kind of funny, a little sweet, and overall, easy to teach.

“Will you tell me why you can’t look at me today?” Harry grinned at her, and noted the way she dropped her gaze from his eyes back down to her hands, an emotion he couldn’t quite place lingering on her features.

“Sorry,” she mumbled out, still refusing to meet his eyes. This might actually drive him crazy.

“Tell me, darling,” Harry reached for the water that was sitting atop Freya’s stall door, and began taking a few sips, his eyes still locked on Y/N, waiting for her to explain. Sooner or later, she would tell him. She was quite bad at keeping secrets.

“Did you actually take Brad to bed?” Y/N still didn’t look up at him.

Harry choked on his water; that was the last thing he expected Y/N to say to him. “Why do you think that?”

“You told me you were going to take him to bed the night you told me you wanted to be my friend,” Y/N recalled.

“I did say that,” Harry hummed out, placing the water back atop the door of the horse stall before moving toward her, “No, I did not take him to bed.”

“Do you want to… You know? Do you like him in that way?” Y/N was trying to avoid certain words, too shy to actually say what she was thinking, and the shyness in her tone was enough to make Harry’s knees almost buckle.

“I think he’s handsome, Y/N, but I would not hurt your feelings like that,” Harry explained, shrugging his shoulders.

“So you only like him, then? That is why you would not marry the Duchess?” Y/N had so many questions rifling through her mind, she didn’t know where to begin.

Realization dawned on Harry’s face, “I have a preference for both, Y/N. I do find men attractive, but I find women attractive too.”

“Oh okay,” Y/N nodded her head, “I’m sorry I was just thinking of that night and how maybe you and Brad—”

“That’s so naughty, Y/N.” He took a couple steps toward her, reminding her of the night he told her he would teach her how to ride. There was only a small gap between them, the front of his chest pressed to the front of her chest, but this time, there was a wooden wall behind her and if he only took one more small step, she would be pressed against the wooden wall in the barn and the front of Harry’s bodice. She was so depraved.

Harry’s voice was full of teasing, but Y/N was so wrapped up in her thoughts, she thought he was chastising her, “I’m sorry, Harry! Not like that!”

“Darling, I’m only teasing you,” Harry’s grin was contagious, Y/N couldn’t help the small smile that spread across her lips, “Now won’t you tell me a secret? I’ve given you one of mine.”

Y/N didn’t even think about it before blurting out, “I wish I knew what it was like to be kissed.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, his hand pressed against the wooden wall, trapping Y/N between his body and the wall (still offering her a way out from the position on his left). All he needed to do was bend down and connect his lips to hers and she would know what it’s like, but he would never do it without asking first. “Would you like me to teach you?”

“I would like that,” she breathed.

So, he would give her what she wanted. In the matter of seconds, his knee was positioned in between her legs, almost touching her center. His head had swooped down so his lips were just a few centimeters from her own, and his eyes were full of peer lust. Without much thought, he pressed his lips against her gentle ones, sliding his tongue across her bottom lip, begging for her to open up for him and let him in. Though, Y/N didn’t understand the cue, and Harry understood that since this is her first time being kissed, she wouldn’t know the trick of sliding your tongue against someone’s bottom lip and what that was asking for.

Gently, he brought his lips to her chin and pulled down ever so slightly, parting her lips and allowing access to her mouth. It was the most pleasant noise he had ever heard, the moan that vibrated into his mouth and warmed his muscles. The blood was flowing to his cheeks, his heart rate quickening and pumping the blood through his body, and straight to his cock. Honestly, if they didn’t stop kissing, he might actually come in his pants, so he pulled away, leaving her breathless and hot.

“How was that?” He asked.

“I think I liked it a lot,” she panted out, pressing her legs together and Harry knew the signs of that all too well, but decided not to comment on it.

“We can do it again sometime.” He shrugged, removing his hand from the wall and taking a few steps back.

“O-okay.” She muttered.

Y/N was feeling things she had never known were possible.

______________

Harry’s lips were pressed against her neck, his hands wandering to the waistband of her underwear before looping his fingers around the elastic and pulling them down her legs. Before she even had time to process what was going on, he was gently laying her against the bed, but they weren’t in her room… No, she didn’t know where they were, and for a moment she was dissecting the bedchamber and all its decor until Harry’s thumb found its way to her clit and one of his fingers sunk into her, rubbing against the button that had her back arching off of the bed.

“Oh,” she gasped out, her breathing becoming erratic with each stroke. “Please, Harry. Please…”

In this scenario, she didn’t feel ashamed for calling out his name, for begging for his fingers. Harry had positioned himself so that he was on top of her, one hand holding him up so that he good get a good look at her face (in this scenario, he liked to watch the way her nose scrunched when she hit her climax) while his hand worked her clit and flicked against her g-spot.

“Don’t worry, darling girl,” he leaned down, his lips pressed against her lips as he spoke, “I’m going to get you there.”

She couldn’t help it, she needed him so badly. When he pulled his fingers out and inserted another, expanding the space inside her, she arched her back off the bed and bucked her hips into his hand begging for more friction than he was supplying her with.

“Don’t be greedy, love.” He found a different position so he could use one hand to pin her hips to the bed, and the other one to tease her with his fingers. “You need help orgasming, darling?”

“Harry, I need help!”

“Y/N!” Harry shook her shoulders, causing her whole body to shake as her eyes opened to reveal a panicked Harry peering down at her.

It took a moment for her to understand what was going on, but when she looked at her surroundings which were dimly lit by candles, Y/N realized that she was in her bedchamber, and no longer in the bedchamber in her dream, and Harry had pulled the chair sitting in the corner of her room to the side of her bed.

A dream. It was just another dream. And it took a moment before she realized that Harry was here, waking her from her dream frantically.

“Harry,” she breathed out, and though he heard the breathiness in her tone as a sigh of relief, for Y/N she was coming down from the orgasm she just had in her sleep. In front of Harry. “What are you doing here?”

“Baby, you were having a nightmare. You’ve been screaming my name,” he tucked a strand of hair that was coated in sweat behind her ear, and she noted the softness in his voice, a guilty feeling ripping through her.

Actually, his voice wasn’t the only thing soft about him. Harry was still sporting sleepwear, white linen pajama pants and a matching button top. His curls which were normally assorted and crisp looking flopped against his forehead, and she couldn’t help but notice the way he stroked his thumb against her head whispering sweet nicknames he had never called her before, but what she really couldn’t stand was the guilt and worry flooding those cloverfield eyes of his.

“I—” she went to explain that she wasn’t having a nightmare, but before she had a chance to get the words out, he was telling her what happened.

“They came and got me. Dorothea told me this is the fifth consecutive night you’ve been screaming my name, why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me the lessons weren’t working, and they were putting you in such a bad place. I didn’t want this for you, baby,” Harry continued to stroke his thumb against her head, this time lowering his hand so that his thumb was stroking along her lips which wasn’t helping the sticky wetness pooling in her panties and the ache in her lower belly.

Y/N, filled with shame at the guilt in his eyes and the crude dreams she’s been having, tried to find her voice, “Wasn’t having a nightmare.”

“What do you mean, darling? You were screaming my name, asking for help?”

In response, Y/N only pulled the edge of her blanket closer to her chest, tucking herself away from him.

It took Harry only two seconds to understand, “Oh?”

“Sorry,” she muttered, dropping her head and inching away from the touch of his fingers.

“No!” He exclaimed, hooking his fingers around her arm as she tried to scoot to the other side of the bed, “Don’t be sorry. There is no need for that, Y/N.”

Y/N didn’t know how to respond, so she nodded and expected him to get up and leave her to her own devices.

Harry’s voice dropped to a whisper, “I just didn’t take you for a beggar, darling girl.”

It could have been the nickname, the same one dream Harry had given her as he brought her to her climax or the fact that he was calling her a beggar but she couldn’t help the heat that flooded through her cheeks as she averted her gaze from his, “Stop!”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said, and Y/N noted the way his fingers that were once tracing circled over her cheeks and then rubbing against her lips were now touching and grasping at her arm, like he had to be in constant contact with her. “You should never be embarrassed of what your body naturally desires.”

“Easy for you to say,” she scooted closer to him, back to where she was before she began inching away, “You’ve never been embarrassed.”

“I have. The first time I ever let someone touch me, I reached my orgasm in my trousers,” he began, offering her a questioning glance to ask if this is okay? When she nodded, letting him know he could climb into her bed, probably against her better judgment, he stood from the chair and put his knee on the bed. Before she knew it, he was putting his knee over her, straddling her momentarily, then found his way to the other side of her bed, so that they were laying side-by-side. Y/N couldn’t help the way heat filled her cheeks, tearing at the tiny tendrils of muscle throughout her body and igniting a fire from deep within her abdomen. How could she think straight when she was dripping with need, her body begging for some sort of release.

Harry continued what he was saying once he was in a comfortable position next to her, but Y/N had trouble listening to his words when the only thing she could focus on was regulating her breaths, “That was pretty embarrassing. The second time I was embarrassed was the first time I met you, and you were standing there looking so beautiful and perfect, I tripped over my words. The third time I felt embarrassed was when I read your letter in the office and you expressed that my actions were not that of a gentleman, and you were right.”

She didn’t know what to say, only that she was burning with desire and needed him as close to her as possible. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“You’ve got me all soft tonight. I was under the impression you were having nightmares because you were too nervous to tell me you didn’t want to continue with lessons. I am cruel, Y/N, you have always been right about that, but I am not a monster,” his words were honest and true, something he would probably regret tomorrow, “Believe it or not, I never wanted to give you nightmares.”

“You haven’t given me nightmares,” Y/N was used to feeling shame around Harry, even though she could cover it quickly by hurling a snarky comment toward him.

“You have no idea how relieved I was to hear that your dreams about me are nothing but good… I would like to rectify the situation for you.”

“Rectify the situation?” Y/N was beginning to feel even more confused than when she woke up in her bedchamber with Harry’s fingers wrapped around her shoulder, waking her from her vivid dream.

“Yes,” he breathed, turning his body so he was laying directly parallel to her, “Would you like me to take care of you?”

“I… I would like that,” her fingers held the quilt tighter to her chest, not quite sure if this was going to be a mean joke to toy with her and then laugh about it later.

“Do you trust me?” His eyebrow raised, knowing her answer without her even needing to speak the words.

“Not… particularly,” her breathing was becoming more rapid as the conversation took such a sultry turn.

“If you don’t trust me, I can’t make you feel good, darling.” He tried to reason with her, and as much as he wanted to run his hands over her sides and touch her all over, he knew he couldn’t do that. Not while he was trying to gain her trust.

“I’ve never done this before,” she said quietly, barely audible.

“I know,” he agreed, “We are going to take it slow. You are safe with me.”

And Y/N didn’t know if it was the look in eyes, or if it was because of the fact he rushed to her bedchamber when someone woke him up from his peaceful slumber to come comfort her from her “bad dream,” but in this moment, she really felt as though she could trust him. On top of that, he knew her biggest fear, and never let her feel uncomfortable when he was teaching her how to ride, so why shouldn’t she trust him?

“I feel safe,” she told him and expressed her limits, “I trust you. No mean words, Harry.”

“No, baby, only praise for how well you’re doing.”

Those three little words, the innocence in her eyes, and the way she clung to her blanket for a security measure could have sent Harry into a downward spiral. He tried to compose himself, tried to contain himself, because he knew he had to take it slow with her. He propped himself up so that he could loop his hands around where she clutched her blanket so tightly. “Have to relax, darling.”

She took in a few deep breaths, just how he taught her when she was trying something new, and her body released the tension as she made eye contact with him. Something about Harry was so contradictory. How could he make her feel so guarded and upset, but also make her feel so safe in her most vulnerable moments. As her grip loosened from the blanket, he asked if it was okay for him to remove it, to expose her body only dressed in her white nightgown. When she murmured a small yes, he peeled the blanket from her body. Cool air encompassed her, and she hadn’t realized just how hot she’d been under the blanket.

Y/N used her elbows to prop herself up, leaning back against the pillows, giving herself a full view as she sat up right, and Harry took this moment to lean back, so his upper body was still parallel to hers, but he still had enough room to use his fingers to work her to the brink of her orgasm. Fortunately for her, he was reading the situation thoroughly, checking for the signs that she wasn’t ready and verbally communicating with her to make sure she was feeling okay.

“How are you feeling, love?” Small touches is what he started with, using the arm that he wasn’t propped up on to trace heart shapes (though, Y/N couldn’t tell what shape he was making) with his forefinger around the bare skin of her hip.

“Feeling good,” her words were breathy, making his cock twitch in his pants, “I’m ready for you.”

Harry let out a small chuckle, his eyes glancing between both of her eyes as he spoke, “We’re going to take it very slow. I’m gonna teach you about pleasure, darling, with my fingers. How does that sound?”

“With your fingers?” She hated how demure it sounded, how underprepared and unknowledgeable the words sounded coming from her.

“Yes. With my fingers first,” he trailed his fingers from her hip, to her lower abdomen until he was over the cotton of her panties, feeling the wetness seep through, “You’re so wet, it feels like you’ve already reached your pinnacle. Did you?”

Sheepishly, she nodded. Though she may not know what it felt like when she was awake, she knew the signs when she woke up from a dream about him. Typically, she was as wet as she is now, a sticky feeling between her legs. “In my sleep.”

“Christ,” he breathed, pulling her panties to the side, but not taking them completely off in an effort to make her not feel so exposed. First, he used his thumb to touch her clit, using small circular motions at a very steady pace. When her breathing picked up once more, and small guttural moans fell from her lips in encouragement for him, he picked up the pace. Harry couldn’t help it, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

Slowly, he lowered his head, pressing his lips against her own as he continued to rub in circular motions. Her back arched from the bed, his lips still on hers as he swallowed the noises she was making against him, and her mind was spinning with absolute desire. Pure bliss is what she felt, her flesh hot with each touch as he continued to work her most sensitive spot while his lips moved against hers. She didn’t know she could feel this… Good. In her dreams she was a sweaty, whiny, mess, but in this experience. In this very, very real experience, she couldn’t hold back the whines or the way her back kept arching into his touch. It was a complete parallel to the way she felt in her dreams, the way dream Harry took care of her and the way real Harry was taking care of her now was so similar.

____

Harry’s mind was a whirlwind of emotion; he loved the way he was making her come undone beneath his fingers. While his thumb worked her clit, he slipped his middle finger in, the cool gold of his rings making her gasp against his mouth, and he took this moment to slick his tongue over her bottom lip and find his way into her mouth. Her mouth was warm, tasting of sweet fruit and honey… She was everything he could ever desire, and he hated the way he crumpled beneath her. She made him feel so out of control, but in this very moment, he had all the power. For a second, he removed his lips, staring down at her with her eyes shut. Her ribcage flared with each breath, her chest heaved as small whimpers tumbled from her lips with his name somewhere in the mix.

As soon as he found that spot inside of her, the spot he knew could make a woman buckle at the knees, she was finding her release and rocking against her hand. Normally, he would tell his partner to stop riding his hand to control the situation, to make them so pent up with frustration and desire that they could barely stand it. He loved to see tears form in his partner's eyes due to overstimulation and pure desire, but this time around, he just wanted her to feel good and comfortable as she reached her climax. This was a vulnerable moment for her, and he didn’t want her to remember it by looking back and thinking about how he wouldn’t let her cum… No, she was being such a good girl for him, rocking against him with such a politeness as she whimpered small pleases and thank you’s that he didn’t want to reprimand her for feeling what she was feeling. In fact, he decided she needed a good reminder.

“You’re being such a good girl, Y/N. So good for me,” as soon as those words filled her ears, her walls began pulsing around his fingers and he knew she was about to reach the brink of the universe, so he continued to encourage her, “Let it out, baby.”

“T-thank you,” she said, clutching the sheets in her hands as her back arched from the bed, and she clenched once more around his fingers, drenching his hand, his wrist, and the end of his pajama sleeves.

“So polite, darling,” Harry noted as her hips thrusted up once more, riding out her orgasm on his hand. Once she was completely fucked out against his hand, Y/N’s eyes fluttered open as she tried to maintain eye contact with him, and when Harry brough his hands coated in her arousal to his mouth and licked them clean, another wave of arousal shot down her spine.

“Is it your turn?” She asked him, barely able to keep her eyes open.

“Not tonight, darling,” his hands found their way to the quilt, covering her up with the blanket so she wouldn’t get cold after she fell asleep. Normally, he would clean his partner up before allowing them to get cozy in bed, but the thought of making her get out of bed and wash up felt too evil as she could barely keep her eyes open.

“When?” She muttered, eyes still closed, “I want to.”

“Let’s talk about it tomorrow, Y/N.” He lifted himself off the bed, and she mumbled a small okay as he walked out of the room.

Harry was so fucked.

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maximumkillshot · 5 months

Text

I Can't Lose You-Part 10

Warnings: Bin losing it (yes this is a warning), A person is grabbed, cursing, boundaries, Anger in Bin's mind (You will see why this is a warning), Mentions of miscarriage, Things come to light, health scares, yeah this one is rough, anxiety, regression

Pairing: BangChan X Reader

Characters: everyone except Bangchan is in this, Soo, Reader,

A/N: PART 10?!!! Double Digits already!! Well people here we are at part 10. We are going to

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Previously:

There was comfortable silence in the car, most silence with Minnie was always comfortable. Then Changbin’s phone rang, Seungmin said “It’s Felix.”

Pick it up.” Changbin said Seungmin hit the green phone icon on his phone and put it on speaker, "Hey Lix we o-"

Felix sounded out of breath, “It’s Soo… she’s here.”

Bin’s POV:

My blood ran cold. We are still so far out. '`Where's Y/N?” was all I could get out. This is why I didn’t want to leave in the first place. This is torture. I know Minho is going to do his best to keep her out, if Soo is anything like Chris, it won’t be easy. I heard, “Where’s Binnie?” at almost the exact same time I asked for her. My foot pressed down on the accelerator as I waited for Felix to answer. I heard bickering in the back, one voice very condescending, “I am just trying to--”

Then I heard Hyunjin snap, “What? What could you possibly want here? To apologize? To see if she’s okay? Well she isn’t thanks to you. Get out of the room now before I have to put my hands on you and drag you out.” That made me feel slightly better. Knowing that the boys are willing to do anything to ensure her safety.

Felix responded, “She’s in bed with Hannie but she’s slipping, she’s already stopped answering everyone except for Hannie. She keeps on asking for you and I don’t know what to do.” The worry in Felix’s voice seemed more out of anxiety than danger.

“What about Soo, where is she?” I asked.

“She keeps trying to get into the room, she walks in and tries to say things to Y/N but we form a wall, her voice is still triggering her. Hannie is trying to calm her but it isn’t working.” I heard more shuffling and more of that woman’s voice, “Y/N just let me talk.” I looked at Seungmin quickly and his face was completely different. He looked like he was going into war, just like mine, I’m sure. More than anything… I’m scared. She needs rest. The doctors said so after the last attack, only Hannie and I know.

The doctors specifically took a read of her heart during the attack, they’re finding that there may be some changes in it. Something that right now may be harmless, or not, it all depends on how her heart responds to stress. Some people die from stress alone.

They took Hannie out to explain the last bit and he messaged me later. Y/N is looking like the latter situation, the stress so high that the heart pumps too fast for too long and it just… I can’t finish that sentence. Judging by how Felix is reacting, he just seems normally worried. Fuck, I want her in my hands right now. I need her right now. That’s the only way I can make sure she’s okay. Without that I just feel like I’m living on borrowed time.

I had to make my voice as even as possible as I made the call, to let the boys know, “Hand the phone to Hannie. After that, tell Hyunjinnah if he has to put hands on her, do it. Y/N is still unstable, the stress will make her heart stop, we don’t have a choice Lixie, she could die. I’ve seen it almost happen. I'll be damned if either of them take her from us. They already took her child, they aren’t getting her. Go and do that now, do it quietly, Lix.”

Felix said, “What?” I can tell he is worried. His face always shows any emotion he has, as well as his voice.

He can’t show worry in front of her, “Felix listen to me, if she can see your face look away from her. You cannot show how serious this is in front of her… Do you hear me?” I have never heard my voice come out this stern, I know he’s scared, I can hear it. I’m so scared if I wasn’t driving I’d be crying right now.

“Yeah I hear you. It’s okay.” I could hear the uncertainty. Like he is asking for reassurance. I don’t blame him. When I read that text, it felt like my heart dropped into my stomach. She is so important in all of our lives. She may not believe it, but us being where we are now, with her; That is proof in and of itself how loved she is and the lengths that we’ll go through to make sure our family is protected.

“I promise you, if you do as I say it will be okay. I’m not letting her go, none of us are, she needs us to protect her right now. I know you can do that for me. You’re so strong Lix, repeat it to me, what do I need you to do?” I tried to make it as honest as possible. A lot of people see Felix as emotional. He is, but he is the strongest out of all of us, it’s his empathy that makes him so strong in situations like this. After all, I was a crying mess a few hours ago and no one tried to console me except for Lix. It’s because, just from looking at the situation, he can feel what you do. Your pain is his pain. That in and of itself proves invaluable for someone like me, who has problems explaining feelings.

“Hand the phone to Hannie, let Hyunjin know that if we need to use force we will.” Felix repeated it back to me calmly.

“Good job Lix, hand the phone over.” I was trying to sound as strong as I possibly could. In reality, I feel like I am going into this blind. I know that I’ve seen it before. That doesn’t change the fear that is plaguing me right now. “Hannie, can you hear me?”

“Yeah Hyung.” I heard Han on the other end. He didn’t sound scared, just calm. Someone on the outside would think that’s great news. In reality, it’s terrifying, Han is only calm when he has to be. So to hear him nearly void of any and all inflection tells me that things are serious. “Talk to me, how is she looking?” I want a full picture of how she is doing> Without that I know I will go into a full panic.

“Heart rate’s 110, slowly climbing. Her skin’s clammy, can’t keep her eyes still, she’d starting to slip, Bin. She won’t stop asking for you. She keeps on looking for you. " He then addressed Y/N, “Anya, look at me please, can you do that for me?” Shit… It has to be bad. Hannie almost never uses that nickname.

He calls her Anya because it’s his favorite character in an anime that both of them love, they rewatch it together all the time. The minute he met her he couldn’t stop calling her Anya. She loved it, of course, since that's her favorite character too. Her hair had pink highlights in it only to add to the nickname. She’s so strong and independent. It fit her perfectly, in Han’s eyes.

He’s using that to try to get her to go back to a happy time, not the last time she saw Soo, “Remember that day, Anya? The day I gave you that nickname? In New York?”

I just heard the smallest, most broken voice, “Binnie, I want Binnie to make her go away. Hannie, can you help me find my Binnie please?” I could hear the thickness of unshed tears trying to fight their way out. Hearing her made my eyes wince reflexively. She’s regressing, sounding more like a child by the minute. The pain is literally shocking her back to a time where she had no idea how to handle the pain, but people could help, when she was a child. It was the same thing that happened in the last attack. It’s her brain trying to protect her.

“Put me on speaker, Hannie.” After I heard some shuffling and what sounded like someone tapping on the phone I said, “Angel?”

“Binnie, where are you?” Just hearing her say that name with that tone, it ripped my heart out. She sounded like she was shrinking, I could sense it in her tone, the way she was holding on to the present.

“I was getting your brownies for you.” I used a lighter tone. I always did with her, I couldn’t help it. The fondness I hold for her constricts my vocal cords, sometimes I feel like I can’t breathe around her, not from being suffocated but from being struck by how gorgeous she is. No matter what, even after Chris married her, she always came to me for comfort. Even when we're watching horror movies, she would hold on to me and hide behind my upper arm, gripping my biceps like they had the antidote, the solution. She would hold me like I was going to chase away the monsters on the screen. That reminded me that this time I wasn’t there to chase away the monster, and I felt rage at that, rage and fear.

“Oh yeah… you’re coming back? M’scared.” That tone. She was slipping again, just my luck that right when she said that is when we hit a red light. I looked at Seungmin and he nodded, I blew right through the light. “Make her go away, Binnie, she’s saying mean things,” I started to hear her voice crack, I could see her shrinking in my mind. Trying to make herself as small as possible, trying not to get hurt. Tears started forming in my eyes as I heard her.

“I am almost there, okay Angel? I’m going to make sure she doesn’t come near you ... Can you tell me where MinMin is, Angel?” This question served two purposes. It both keeps her grounded and it gives me a gauge of where I am needed more. Right now I need to know if I need to blow by Soo to protect Y/N, talk her out of a flashback, or if I can deal with Soo personally. All of it hinges on Minho.

“He… He… MinMin?” I heard her ask. I could hear the fear laced in her tone. That tone makes me want to hide her from everyone and everything.

Then I heard a soothing tone of voice, “I’m here Beautiful, don’t worry.” It was Minho. That allowed me to breathe for a second. I know Soo won’t touch her.

She answered me,“He’s at the door… Keeping…” I could hear more of a little scuffle, shifting around, sneakers on a concrete floor, talking… But nothing from her. The closer I listened the more I heard.

“I just want to make sure she’s okay, I’m still her best friend.” I heard Soo say.

Hyunjin fired back with, “No you’re not her best friend. We are her best friends and unlike you, we won’t stab her in the back. Funny how best friends aren’t supposed to do that.”

“Hannie what’s happening?” I couldn’t help the uptick in my anxiety. If I could just look at her, if she could see me and I could see her maybe it’d give me more time. But I can’t, it’s too dark. No matter what I did, whatever solutions I was coming up with it all came down to time I didn’t have to get to her. The threat is there now. Here I am so far away.

“She’s staring off.” I heard Han and my stomach dropped.

“Angel? Are you there? Keep talking to me…” I am trying so hard not to add to the chaos. I am doing everything to breathe normally, stay calm. I am struggling, I want her to be safe, that's all I ever wanted, I just wanted her happy and safe.

“Binnie… why did this happen?” She said, in a very calm tone. That scared me as I am sure Han is watching the heart monitor. I had to snap her out of it. I’m 10 minutes away. I’ll make it in 5. “Hey Angel, let me ask you a question.” I said as I cut through a deserted parking lot, avoiding another light.

“Yes?” She was close to the phone but so far away in her mind. I was semi- ecstatic that she answered me, usually that isn’t the case. I could hear the disorientation. I had to get her back to the here and now.

“You always wanted to go to Nami Island to take pictures, right?” I asked.

“Yeah! The trees are amazing in spring! And they have snowmen cakes around this time! Every season is so gorgeous.” I could hear some excitement, but overall monotone. It was similar to the voice she’d use when Chris made a promise that she knew he wouldn’t keep. Like she’s already over the thought of what was said was actually going to happen.

I giggled, “Ok how about when things calm down we go to Nami Island, then? And as soon as the seasons change and Nami Island is at its peak I’ll take you again.”

“Really?! You’d take me?” It was almost like her mind had to take the time out to realize that I am not Chris and that when I tell her something, that I will do it. That made me feel so sad for her. No one should go through what she went through.

“Sweetheart, I will take you anywhere all you have to do is say the word.” I said honestly. That’s how it’s always been. Whenever she wanted to go out she wouldn’t go to Chris, he’d get mad for being disturbed, she told me. She hated going out alone though. One day I walked by their room to hear her ask meekly and he told her that his answer won’t change, he had no time for her. I continued to the kitchen and instead of reaching for the preworkout, I looked for any reason to call her over. When I did, I called her over. I could tell she was crying so I just opened my arms, asking what’s wrong.

“You have been through so much, I just want to see you do what you love, without worry. We can be there as long as you want, okay?” I told her. I already know that I am not going anywhere without her for a long time. Fuck going to the studio. Fuck the 3 hour long dance practices, that is not a things at this point. I know that Chris is going to do anything he can to get to her alone. He is smart, that much is apparent. He’s definitely not going to let her go easily. I can feel my hands subconsciously tightening on the wheel. Just by what I heard from the kitchen minutes ago, he thinks that she belongs to him, that is some fucked up archaic shit. She is her own person. Her own beautiful, loving, caring person. She deserves to be treated as such.

“Thank you, Binnie,” I could hear her tone still small, but excited slightly.

“Anything for you, Angel.” I don’t think she realizes that I will literally do anything for her. I’d give all of this up. Hell I am still trying to convince myself to stay on this team, I can’t see myself being in a room with Chris again, yet I am expected to somehow cohabitate with him. I can feel the saliva build in my mouth as my intestines twist. I’d do anything to keep her safe, happy. To let her know that she’s loved.

“She wasn’t taking care of him…. Not the way I could, look at her! She can’t even handle her best friend talking to her!” I heard the sarcasm spew from Soo’s mouth. It made rage build in my stomach. Then I heard Hyunjin again, “You are fucking delusional to think that you are in any league near Y/N. You are a spineless cretin, she’s a caring person. A person who loved you like a sister. The only person who could look at a piece of shit like you and find something good in them.” I couldn’t help the smirk on my face from hearing Hyunjin reading her for filth. “The only reason why she can’t ‘handle’ a waste of space like you is because you did this to her. You broke her along with Chris!”

“Are you coming here soon?” I heard her whimpering as I continued to break every speed limit known to man, “she won’t leave me alone. Make her go away. She’s saying things,” I could hear the shake in her voice. She is trying so hard to stay here in the present.

“Angel, I am one minute away as soon as I get there, I’m going to make her go away. Minnie’s going to come in and take care of you while I make sure she’s gone, okay?” I tried to fight the shaking in my voice, but I can't help it.

“You’re coming back to me after?” She asked.

“Absolutely, I will be right next to you, sounds good, Angel?” I asked. Being next to her always made me feel like I was home. It was the weirdest sensation whenever we were on tour or anything like that. I never got to see here daily, which was also torturous. I hated it. It wasn’t like I could call her daily either, it was more of a reminder than anything that I am just a friend, not her husband. Being next to her is where I belong. I feel it in my bones. Just thinking about being next to her is soothing to me.

“Yeah…”

The next minute we were in front of the hospital I looked to Seungmin and he said, “Go, I’ll park the car. I’ll stay on with Birdie in the meantime.” Thank God for Kim Seungmin. I don’t know how he knows what I need to do. Especially when I can’t even keep my head on straight right now. My guess is that he could see the distress in my face. I immediately got out of the car and bolted into the hospital. I was trying to find the quickest way to her, and to get Soo away. I decided on the stairs since she was only on the third floor. I was taking two or three steps at a time.

The utter desperation I am feeling is something that I have never felt before. I’ve never cared about or for anyone like this before. It’s like the fear and the desperation come with a feeling like my very being is being threatened. I can’t do any of it without her. I’m not just talking about performing and singing, no, I can’t breathe without her. I don’t want to eat, workout, I can’t function, period. That’s why I have to keep her safe. I’m not just protecting her because she is loving and kind, I am protecting her because I love her. She has my heart and she always did, from the second I looked at her she had it. The minute she laughed she had my soul, she may not know it or care in the same way but I don’t care. I love her.

By the time I made it to the third floor, my lungs were burning, only adding to the rage that I was feeling. I heard Hyunjin speaking slightly louder than anyone should in a hospital hallway as I speed walked down the hallway. I ran into one of the nurses and told them to call security that the other person that caused it is here. I told them I’m taking her to the waiting room to separate her from Y/N. They nodded. The closer I got the more my veins popped.

One second she was arguing with Hyunjin just inside the doorway and the next I wrapped my arm around her midsection and picked her up, dragging her out of the room as I said, “Hannie, Minho with me. Lix, check on Angel make sure she’s okay, Seungmin-ah is coming up soon.” Then I directed my voice to Y/N, “I’m here Angel I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Soo was struggling in my grasp but I didn’t care. I lift almost 300 pounds for fun, and she thinks that she can get out of my grasp? “Get off of me!” She squawked. All I did was glare at her and say, “You and I are going to have a little conversation about boundaries.”

The nurses that knew who I was at this point, since I had been there the whole time. They also knew that I’m a sweetheart, but they also knew that I love Y/N so their faces also turned with smiles as they saw me dragging Soo. They probably knew from my face alone that I’m currently holding the last of the trash to be thrown out of Y/N’s life.

I heard Han and Minho’s footsteps behind me as I walked into the waiting room. As soon as the door was closed and locked I grabbed one of the chairs and plopped her in it. “If you move from there. I will pick you back up and put you back. You understand?” I caged her into the chair. She nodded her head, not good enough. “Oh you had no problem talking shit when I wasn’t here, now you’re all of a sudden unable to speak?” She shook her head, “Then fucking use your voice. You’re so brave saying that she can’t handle talking to you yet you forget that you literally KILLED her CHILD.” I screamed in her face, and she shrunk away.

I felt Han’s hand on my shoulder, silently begging me to back off I’m sure. I have never been this bad as I backed off and dragged a chair and sat right in front of her, “You are such a piece of garbage. What were you trying to do by coming here?” I leaned back in the chair, not letting my eyes leave hers. Just trying to remind her that right now, if I let myself, I’d crush her in a heartbeat.

I heard two more chairs dragged next to me.

She looked at all three of us as she said, “I wanted to see if it’s true, if she really is as broken as I was told.” I could see the corners of her lips fighting a smile.

“If you don’t wipe that smile off your face, I’ll wipe it off for you.” Minho glared at her as I stared at her. I knew that Minho is very attached to Y/N. The fact that he is reacting like this, is a little new. He has always had respect for everyone, I can also understand where he’s coming from. She means so much to us. We wouldn’t hesitate. “You wouldn’t dare, Minho,” She laughed.

“He won’t… too much respect… I however,” I stated very matter-of-factly, “Have a very hard line, Soo. I don’t touch women in any violent way ever… But if anyone messes with my family and with whe people I love? All of a sudden gender is irrelevant… So the next time you speak, I recommend you speak with that in mind.” I saw the blood drain from her face, I felt a new level of base in my voice. The anger is starting to reach a level I can’t control.

Minho added on with “Usually I’d have too much respect. That was before what you said about Y/N. About her losing the baby being a good thing. That it’d make the divorce less messy…”

My eyes went wide as my heart dropped on the floor, shattered. When did this happen? How did this happen? I looked away from Soo for the first time, “I don’t think I heard you correctly… She said WHAT?”

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nat-ter · 3 months

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Bruce had never met Superman face to face but he still hated the alien and thought of him as a threat and he was convinced his boys did too— except his kids are traitors. They each met Superman individually and found him really friendly and nice. At first, they were all hiding the fact that they were friends with Superman from each other, and especially from Bruce. So while Bruce was obsessed with coming up with contingency plan after contingency plan to take down Superman— even though he didn't try to kill the alien yet since Superman was still doing good for the people and Bruce couldn't just attack someone who hadn't done any wrong yet— the kids were making excuses to go meet Superman in secret and Bruce just went on oblivious to the fact that his kids are backstabbing demons.

Of course they lied to Superman too, about Batman's opinions of the Man of Steel, and the various plans he had made to kill said man. They always came up with reason after reason why Superman shouldn't or couldn't meet Batman, sometimes it's getting so ridiculous they were sure even Superman would call their buff. But sweet, ol' Kal never did.

Eventually, they found out that none of them held a grudge against Superman like Batman did, so they all teamed up together and cover for each other whenever one of them spend time with Superman, or cover the fact that Superman came to Gotham one too many time than he should. And it was the one thing that all of them could work together on without fighting or insulting each other. At one point, to keep their secret friendship with Superman, Dick even went so far to wear Batman's costume and meet Superman as Batman because Superman had wanted to meet Batman really bad and they were running dry on why Batman couldn't make time to meet the neighboring hero, and it wasn't like they could just ask Bruce to meet him considering the large collection of Kryptonite in the Cave. And they didn't exactly want their mentor to find out they had went behind his back and formed a friendship with who he swore was his mortal enemy (B's dramatic like that).

They tried to broach the subject of partnership with Superman to Bruce once in a while, of course, but every single time they were either shot down immediately and called ridiculous for even thinking about it or they had to sit through a dramatic monologue about how Superman couldn't be trusted and why they should stay away from him.

But Superman could fly and had superspeed so of course they couldn't stop him if he were to randomly come to Gotham and speak with Batman as if they were friends. Which was what exactly happened. Dick, as Batman, had warned Superman to never, ever come to Gotham without prior notice and to make sure no one notice his presence while he was in the city ("but you can totally see my kids. I'm cool with that." "Oh? Thanks, Batman. But... you know you sound younger than I thought you would." "Uh... yeah, I. Ehem. I'm very in touch with the modern lingo."), and Superman had readily agreed citing about respecting each other's boundaries and all, so the kids thought they were in the clear. But of course, there would be an emergency when even Superman wouldn't have the time to page first before coming right into Batman's turf and ask for his help.

So on a relatively quiet night, Batman was perching on a gargoyle while the newest Robin was scouting out the alleyways for any trouble. And Superman decided to touch down on the roof behind the crouching Batman and said, as if they had met before, as if they were close friends who hang out every once in a while, "Good evening, Batman. It's nice to see you again. Sorry I couldn't page first, and I hope you're not too busy because I have an emergency and I could really use your help."

Batman had gone rigid in a second and through gritted teeth, said, "Superman."

Upon hearing the name through the comm, Damian panicked and immediately sent out an emergency alert to his brothers before grappling to the building where sweet, clueless Superman with his sweet heart was facing the big bad Bat of Gotham who had been stockpiling on kryptonite for years, waiting for the day he would fight Superman. Which was the first mistake.

Because of course Superman, friendly Superman, with heart the size of the Sun, immediately recognised Robin. And of course, clueless Superman with his dumb, harmless 1000 megawatt smile was waving at Robin as if they were friends, as if they knew each other, as if Robin didn't hear Bruce grumbling about each piece written about the good deeds the Superman did every other day.

The others arrived at the scene faster than they would have at any night. Panic stricken and scared shitless of Bruce's wrath. And of course Superman immediately greeted them as soon as they got there.

Batman had merely narrowed his eyes when Superman had waved at Robin, and barked, sharper than he had before, "What the hell are you doing in my city?"

Superman looked taken aback but he was quick to recover. Seems like whatever emergency he got was more prominent than figuring out why his sort-of-not-really-friend was behaving weirdly. "Like I said, I have an emergency and I could really use your help, Batman."

Batman scoffed but with the voice modulator it sounded garbled and hard for the ears. "And what makes you think I would help you?"

Superman blinked. "What do you mean— Why wouldn't you help me?"

"First you encroach into my city without even asking for permission, talking to me as if we are— friends. And then you ask for my help as if I would just drop everything on my plate and follow you. Who do you think—"

But Batman's rant was cut off by the arrival of the other three heroes who stood at the edge of the roof, looking sheepish and guilty, breathing heavily in the quiet night. Superman looked at them, bewildered and surprised to see all the Batfamily in one place but smiling wide nonetheless because he was happy to see his little friends together. It had always been two kids or one. Never three, never all of them and certainly not with Batman in the mix.

"Oh, hey, Red Robin, Nightwing and Red Hood...?" Superman waved awkwardly by the end of his greetings, looking unsure. "Sorry," he said and actually curled in on himself a little as if he's self-conscious. "Are you guys on a big case? I didn't hear anything so I thought you weren't busy. I guess I could try to contact Wonder Woman if you have your hands full."

Superman turned to Batman but Batman was slowly turning his head towards where his kids stood at the edge of the roof. He was eerily silent and motionless making the kids take a step back nervously. Superman watched the scene with a frown, pulling his eyebrows together so tightly they almost meet in the middle. He was starting to detect that something wasn't quite right.

"Explain." Batman barked.

And Superman's face scrunched up even further. Clearly the man was deep in thought. "You know," he said slowly before none of the kids could speak. "Batman. You sound really different than the last time we met. Or any other time, actually. It's as if you're..." he trailed off, staring at Batman's feet, lost in his thoughts again.

"What." Batman shifted slightly. "We've never met before."

"Oh," Superman breathed out, his face going slack. He turned to Nightwing and the young hero immediately stood up straighter. "It was you."

Batman's head snapped towards where Dick was standing with his hands literally clasped behind his back like a soldier. "Nightwing," growled Batman. "Explain."

"Uhh..." said Dick eloquently.

"Red Robin." Bruce barked when Dick fell into silence, unable to come up with a plausible excuse, or to tell the truth.

"Err..." said Tim, swaying a little on his feet. He hadn't had enough sleep or coffee in him to live through the situation.

Batman did not sigh but Bruce Wayne did. A lot. And the kids had a knack of bringing out the dad side in him so Batman sighed through the voice modulator before he could think better. He had always suspected that his kids were up to something but he was so consumed with the thought of the alien— who was now standing in front of him with the world's greatest kicked puppy eyes in the world for some reason— he had stupidly thought whatever shenanigans his sons were up to, he would be able to deal with it later. Of course, he had never thought that his kids were dirty, backstabbing demons.

"Father," Damian finally said, but only because Jason had been signing at him to do so, telling him to use his puppy eyes since it still seemed to work on Bruce. "This is a misunderstanding."

But apparently they were dealing with the full Bat tonight, despite the involuntary sigh, because Batman did not slumped down his shoulders like he always did when Damian turn on his pleading eyes, instead he stood up straight as ever and met Damian's eye straight on. Jason was sure he could hear thunderstorm coming their way.

"A misunderstanding." He repeated flatly.

"Yes." Dick quickly said and Jason gave him a side eye. Dude, he thought, I just convinced the demon child to throw himself under the bus, why are you still talking.

"How is this a misunderstanding." His tone was so flat it didn't even come out as a question.

"I don't understand," Superman said instead, before anyone could reply Batman. He turned to the kids, his face set in disappointment so similar to Bruce's the kids actually flinched back. "You told me Batman was okay with me hanging out with you guys... And he told me— Oh. Nightwing. Right."

Batman's shoulders went impossibly more rigid. "You have been... hanging out."

"Err," said Nightwing, Red Robin and Robin simultaneously. Jason wisely kept his mouth shut. But Bruce's eyes still landed on him. Jason groaned in his head. So much for staying undetected.

"Red Hood," Bruce said slowly, very pointedly. "I thought you hate Superman."

"Yeah, well." Jason shrugged with nonchalance he didn't feel. "Turns out, he's a pretty great guy. So, kudos to him. Yay...?"

"You hated me?" Superman asked, looking dejected. Like someone kicked his dog and Jason knew he had a dog so the expression was even more daunting. And Jason wasn't having any of it, okay. Kal-El had literally given Red Hood his Ma's secret recipe for the perfect cinnamon roll. Which tasted like heaven (sorry Alfred). They had a bond, okay. No way he would let Superman see him as some cynical asshole. No way.

"Not fucking fair. It was the old man who went on and on about how you can't be trusted while making weapons to kill you. So, in my defense, it was hard to like you when all your flaws and possible weaknesses are pointed out in an alphabetical order." He threw a quick glance at the old man he just threw under the bus. Bruce looked unimpressed as ever. "But that was before I met you and found out that you're actually a chill dude. With a mother who's, like, the God of Baking."

"Superman doesn't have a mother!" Batman, honest to god, spluttered.

"Yes, he does." The young heroes said in unison.

"His world is dead. His parents are dead." Batman needlessly emphasised the word 'dead', for which he got four pairs of unimpressed eyes.

"B, have you ever heard of adoption." Dick said, emphasising the last word just to spite Bruce. Because of course Bruce did, if not, three of them wouldn't be there.

"You have Earth parents!" Batman exclaimed quite unlike himself, pointing a finger at Superman as if that's an accusation.

"You want to kill me." Kal whispered, his puppy eyes back on full effect.

Batman shifted uncomfortably. It was one thing to plan ways to kill someone, even if they're alien, it's completely different when said someone you wanted to kill was confronting you about the very thing.

"Yes." Damian reaffirmed. Ever the literal. "Father has been producing a variety of weapons to weaken you, hurt you and eventually kill you with the material called Kryptonite."

"Robin." Tim hissed.

Damian was still a growing child, emotionally and physically. But even he knew that when his any of his brothers said his name like that, it meant he had crossed a line he shouldn't have without realising he did.

"But you have nothing to worry about, Kal." Damian quickly amended. "Should father try to use these weapons under unwarranted circumstances, he will find the stock empty. We have contingency plans for father's contingencies—"

"Damian." It was Dick this time, who quickly moved and put a hand over Robin's mouth. He didn't even realise his mistake, not any of them did, actually.

"What." Batman said. Mostly confused. He couldn't even find it in himself to be furious at the moment. He was just flummoxed.

"Oh. Uh." Superman stammered. "Thank you? That's really nice of you."

An awkward silence befall the rooftop as each hero stood awkwardly where they were, barely breathing, motionless, not knowing what action to take next. Eventually Batman shifted an inch.

Oh no, thought the boys, he's going to go on another rant.

"You went behind my back," Batman started with a dark voice. "I warned you about the danger and you dismissed it. You went and made an alliance with my enemy." Here, Superman let out a protesting noise which could also he offended because, really? Enemy? Batman ignored it. "Not only that, you made plans to go against me. Instead of talking to me, you decided to oppose me. I have trained you and taught you everything you need to know. I take care of you and make sure to meet each of your needs. And this is what I get in return. Betrayal. You did not listen to me and—"

But he was cut off by a sardonic voice. "Master Wayne," said a voice from the batcomm each Bat was wearing, and Superman with his superhearing could hear it loud and clear too. "Considering your history of doing what you were told not to do, are you sure that you should be giving this speech?"

"Alfred," Batman said, sounding almost petulant.

"It is your fault, afterall, that you did not seek out Superman first before deciding who he is and what he is like. It is a good thing, if I may be so bold to say, that the kids see past the mask and befriend Superman in spite of what you have to say about him." Batman looked at Superman who was standing there awkwardly, staring at Batman. Bruce sneered, unable to help himself.

"Quit that," Alfred admonished. Bruce immediately dropped it. Superman blinked. "Now, Master Bruce. I agree that Master Dick, Master Jason, Master Tim and Master Damian should have come forward with their established friendship with Superman but considering your opinion on him, I believe it is understandable that they hesitated to do so." The aforementioned young boys nodded their head at Bruce. "That is not to say, however, that their behaviour shall go unpunish." Now they were groaning and Bruce had a little smile of triumph. "Perhaps, a few days off petrol and reflecting on our behaviours would do us some good. Including you, Master Bruce." Bruce immediately dropped his smile. Why him, too? Alfred answered right away. "I believe you realise now that you have been acting brashly the past few years. Now, we know that Superman is not as aloof and alien as we had previously thought. He is more earthbound than we believed him to be. If he were to go, he will have someone to miss him."

The kids nodded again. Superman just stared at Bruce with wide eyes and an expression Bruce couldn't put together. Whatever, Bruce had no time to care about him. He turned slightly away to whisper to the comm.

"But Alfred—"

"None of that now. I suggest you send the young lads home and we put this discussion off for the future."

In the ensuing silence, Superman softly breathed out: "Wayne."

Batman immediately went rigid, and so did the other young vigilantes. How the hell—

"Bruce... Wayne...?" Superman searched Batman's covered face as if he was trying to see if he was actually coming to a concrete conclusion.

"Oh," Alfred said, surprised and guilty. "The supersenses have slipped my mind. My apologies, Master Bruce."

For the first time in his life, Bruce didn't know what to do. Of course his immediate response should be deflection. But how could you lie to Superman about the very thing he just heard. The kids didn't seem to know what else to do either.

"Perhaps, you should ask Superman to come over for tea if his emergency is not an emergency anymore and we could talk about this in a more secure place." Alfred smoothly continued. No point in lying now. Superman had heard what he had heard and it was unlikely that he could be convinced that his superhearing was faulty.

Superman blinked a few times as if to clear his thoughts before he cleared his throat. "Yes, uhm. I was going to ask Batman to help me take a look at some data about a shipment from Gotham to Metropolis that was to happen tonight. I have reasons to believe that Luthor is involved and when Luthor is involved—"

"Kryptonite is involved." Bruce finished it for him.

Superman looked at him, seemingly a bit surprised. "Erm, yes. That. But I think it has already happened so... I'd have to follow it up tomorrow. So. Uh. I have... time?"

Batman narrowed his eyes and stayed silent.

"Bruce." Alfred said.

"C'mon B," Dick piped up. "The worst has already happened."

"I concur, Father. Kal-El now knows who you are, it is only best that the matter of discretion be properly discussed." Damian nodded sagely.

"The fuck, old man, are you still contemplating this?" Jason raised his arms in disbelief. He's so done with this family.

"Language, Master Jason."

"Uhh..." Tim swayed on his feet.

Batman sighed again. Dammit. Instead of showing his discomfort, however, he growled out a mean, "Fine." And then he grappled towards where he parked the Batmobile. Those brats could find their own way home and Superman? He could fly anyway.

Turned out, Superman could fly with four more passengers and Red Robin's bike that the kids used to get to that building. Although Bruce later gave Kal a piece of his mind about safety and the standard amount of people Superman should carry during flight without putting anyone in danger.

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gh0stlyfixation · 1 year

Text

The beginning of something beautiful

A random idea I had so something short and probably crappy because I wrote then posted lol

It doesn’t take long for you to realize Simon has trust issues. So when he asks you to come over for the first time, he has some rules: don’t go into his office without him knowing or being there, don’t move his stuff and the mask stays on.

In the best way possible to help him trust you, you listen. You are nothing but respectful when it comes to his stuff. Always asking if it’s okay to move his jacket so you can sit at the table and eat, to move a book on his nightstand to place some water there, asking if you can put something on his desk in his office, to move his gear from the front door so you can leave or asking if you can lift his mask just a little bit to feel his lips on yours.

Once he realizes that you respect his boundaries, he’ll ask for help in his office to sort through the piles he made after a long and rough mission or ask if you could clean his house up after he had to leave unexpectedly and his house was messy, and he would remove the mask after a few more months of you respecting him.

He suffers from PTSD and some days it gets bad. He unleashes a side of him he hates, his anger. He never means to direct it toward you but sometimes he does. You’ve never taken it to heart though, he has issues just like you do, and sometimes you just need to step back and give him space.

You tell him to call you when he’s ready and not to rush anything. You leave and after a few hours or even days, he calls to apologize profusely begging you not to leave him. You never would. You’d go back to his house and hold him tightly and securely promising your not leaving him and reminding him that sometimes, people have bad days. Once he realizes you won’t leave, he’ll show his most valuable self, he’ll start to cry lightly, hugging onto your waist like a small child

He expects you to be gone after he’s been on a mission for months, close to a year. He expects your things to be moved out of his apartment and a note telling him goodbye. He never had his hopes up when retiring home.

He's happy when he sees your car in the driveway, when he walks through the doors and he smells something cooking, and when you walk through the hall and he sees you with nothing but his t-shirt and a smile on your face before he’s attacked with a jump and kisses all over his face. He holds you tightly and he reminds himself that you’ll always be there to love and care for him.

So yes, despite the troubles in the beginning, you knew it was the start of something beautiful. You love Simon with everything in your body, just as he did you.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley #simon riley x y/n #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley imagine #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod mw2 x reader #call of duty mw2 #mw2 x reader

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xitsensunmoon · 5 months

Text

I've been thinking about sharing this here for a very long time and now it reached a point when I'm so upset I just can't be silent anymore.

Almost immediately after creating this account, the first thing I did was to put "Ukrainian artist" in my bio.

Shortly after that, I got a few asks with death threats, disturbing and just horrible words about my nation and culture. I was called a nazi, a fascist, and just a pig. Hating me just for being a Ukrainian, just for my existence. Not just on Tumblr, but on other social platforms too. If I were to guess, those were sent by russians or people who support the war.

Dca community made me feel the safest I've ever felt in any other community, up until that point.

After that, I put "russians DNI" in my bio and closed anons. Whoever was sending hate was not brave enough to say the same terrible things to me on their main pages. It felt a little bit safer that way, even if some of you will say it's not the right thing to do. Honestly, at that point, I was really ready to just leave Tumblr for good.

I can't stop people who are making me uncomfortable and making me feel unsafe from coming to my page and ignoring my very clear boundary of just not interacting with me.

It's my page. It's my art. It's my home. I have the right to decide who I want to have here, who I want to interact with me and my art, my hours of work. If you're taking away that right from me, do you really think you're a good person and my boundary doesn't apply to you?

I do not attack russians. I do not spread hate and toxicity, even though I have a right to be as angry as I can. I do not mass report their accounts and don't send death threat asks. I just ask to be left alone.

My question is, if a person, a russian, sees my bio that asks to not interact with me, but decides against it, ignoring my boundaries gets banned for it. Am I really in the wrong?

The point of this - if you don't agree with my actions please leave. Don't start a fight, just please leave. Because I will continue to block every russian who I encounter on my page. I really, really don't want people who just don't even want and try to understand the situation and just completely ignore how fucking terrible this is even WITHOUT me starting on the war context.

#tw death threats mention #tw harassment #xit shh #I'm so sick and tired of this #i feel helpless #it's like I'm banging my head on the wall just begging for peace #it just keeps happening

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in1-nutshell · 6 months

Note

Can the tfa bots and elite guard react to a female bot who has the personality and appearance of fluttershy from my little pony who was bring to life by an allspark fragment

Okay, its been a hot second since I've seen My Little Pony, but worth it! Buddy is here with their animal friends ready to meet Team Prime and the Elite Guard.

Hope you enjoy!

Team Prime and the Elite guard reacting to a Fluttershy Bot Buddy that was brought to life by a fragment of the Allspark

SFW, platonic, Cybertronain/ Bot reader

TFA

Buddy’s alt-mode is golf cart. It was Team Prime who found Buddy. Well, more like Prowl and Sari who found them. Buddy was talking to the geese in the lake. Prowl was the first to make his and Sari’s presence known. Buddy shyly introduced themselves and asked if the two of them knew anything about the geese. Later the rest of Team Prime comes in to meet the new bot. It takes a few days to gain the bots friendship, but they seem happy to make such nice friends. Then the Elite Guard comes in…

Optimus Prime

“You’re a good friend Optimus. I’m glad I met you, my friend.”--Buddy

“Thank you, Buddy.”--Optimus

“Are you okay?”--Buddy

Voice crack “I’m fine.”--Optimus

Optimus needs good friends in his life.

Not like Sentinel or Elita-One/ Blackarachnia. They lost their rights to be Prime’s friends.

He has a good friendship with Buddy. Optimus has respect for Buddy as they treat everyone with equality and the same level of kindness. Something that not many people or bots have now a days.

Where was Buddy his entire life?

The only thing that does get on Optimus’s nerves with Buddy is that they want to adopt every animal they see without an owner. He has lost count of how many stray cats and squirrels he has found in their room.

He has no problem standing up for Buddy when they need it. He knows better than to fight others battles. But if Buddy needs the help, Optimus has their back. He does have talks with them about setting their own boundaries and being able to say ‘no’.

Will not hesitate to go out on someone if they make Buddy feel like they aren’t a true Cybertronian. He offers a confidence booster to Buddy if they feel like this, while also plotting against the attacker. Optimus does not care if the attacker is a Bot or human, they are going down.

Ratchet

“Hello there Doctor Ratchet. I cleaned some of your medical tools for you last night and organized them all just the way you like them!”--Ratchet

Need to adopt intensifies.

Oh, he is really considering it,

Ratchet has a soft spot for the younger bots on the team. Buddy is no exception to this.

Buddy’s quiet nature goes along well with Ratchet own quiet nature. Its just introverts being introverts. After his experience with Wreck-Gar, he defiantly has a bit more patience with Buddy.

Ratchet will not hesitate to hurt anyone who hurts Buddy. Whether it be physical or emotional, he has his throwing wrenches ready.

He doesn’t lecture Buddy as much as the rest of the team, but he does take time to talk to them about setting boundaries and saying ‘no’. Ratchet does get worried that one day Buddy isn’t going to say ‘no’ to something that would end up hurting them.

He is going to rain down a whole army on the sorry bot or human who calls Buddy a ‘fake Cybertronian’. Buddy is just as much of a Cybertronain than its inhabitants. Ratchet gives them a mini pep talk about it not mattering whether being a ‘fake’ or not, they are Buddy, one of the best Bots he has had the pleasure of knowing in his life.

Bumblebee

“Hey Buddy! Help me put these boosters on my back!”--Bumblebee

“Umm… that seems a little bit dangerous…”--Buddy

“C’mon please!”--Bumblebee

“… I guess if you use them responsibly…”—Buddy

Oh, he was definitely taking advantage of Buddy’s inability to say ‘no’ at first.

All Bumblebee had to do was sic the puppy dog eyes and a couple of ‘pleases’ and it was done. It isn’t until he gets a reality check from his team that he realizes that what he is doing is a bit messed up.

So, he does try to make up for it.

Mainly in the form of inviting them out to do more outings with him and Sari. But he soon gets the hint that Buddy doesn’t like big, crowded places, he offers Buddy to play video games as an alternative.

With time Bumblebee does try and get Buddy out of their shell. He makes sure they are fine with it first; he doesn’t want to overwhelm them too much. Just taking baby steps first.

He is willing to stand up against anyone who makes Buddy feel uncomfortable and fight them. He does try and help them in saying ‘no’.

He is ready to fight anyone if he hears that Buddy feels bad about being a ‘fake Cybertronian’. He is giving the weirdest pep talk that strangely works and helps Buddy’s self-esteem. Afterwards Bee and Sari are planning on how to make the human or Bots week miserable.

Sari

“Hello there Sari.”--Buddy

“Hey Buddy! You ready for Bird Time?”--Sari

“I thought you’d never ask.”—Buddy

Sari like Bee, definitely used the puppy dog eyes trick but not as much. Mainly to get out of little troubles here and there.

She does get a talk about it like bee though. But unlike Bee she gets a whole new idea.

Sari becomes Big Sister.

She is protective of the Big Little sibling. She feels like she has a special bond with Buddy. Anyways she always wanted to be a sister.

She instated a tradition between the two called Bird Time. Every week or so the two of them would go back to the pond and feed the geese while talking about their weeks. Sari loves Buddy’s empathetic nature and supportiveness. This was especially important when she learned about her not being human.

Like Bee, Sari is willing to fight someone who makes Buddy uncomfortable. Does not matter who it is, no one is coming near her little big sibling. She does have a habit of answering ‘no’ for Buddy when the situation seems fishy.

Sari honestly sympathizes with Buddy when they get called a ‘false Cybertronian’. Being a techno organic she understands that there are a lot of people and bots that will look at them differently. But that does not mean she will be plotting murder behind Buddy’s back. She teams up with Bee to make the person or Bots week miserable.

Bulkhead

“Good morning Bulkhead.”--Buddy

“Oh, hey Buddy…”--Bulkhead

“What’s wrong?”--Buddy

“Well… what do you think of my latest art piece? It’s probably dumb—what are you doing?”--Bulkhead

“I’m going to put this piece of art in my room.”—Buddy

This is Bulkhead’s best friend.

They are practically twins.

Many have mistaken their nature for twins. Which is something that both deep down find endearing and wish it were true.

Buddy never makes Bulkhead feel useless brute that’s only good for smashing things. Buddy does their best to support the things Bulkhead is passionate about.

Bulkhead in return does his best to stand up against anyone who is mean or makes Buddy feel uncomfortable.

Like Buddy he has a tough time saying no to certain things, but is much more honest in saying it and tries to help Buddy when they need it.

He is ready to pound anyone to the ground if he ever finds out Buddy doesn’t feel like a ‘true’ Cybertronian because someone says so. He does a lot of paintings of Buddy and tells them that they are as true Cybertronian as he is and that anyone who says otherwise is dumb. Bulkhead will have a grudge on any bot or human who says anything mean about Buddy.

Prowl

“Hello Prowl.”--Buddy

“Buddy.”--Prowl

“… I brought them in…”--Buddy

“Let me see.”--Prowl

Little meows

“Perfect.”—Prowl

Nature friends.

Prowl loves nature and Buddy loves animals.

The two of them like to walk around the park or go to Dinobot island to escape the city and enjoy nature. Buddy has made friends with all the Dinobots which makes Prowl happy.

The two of them have their own version of Bird Time. Except it involves staying still and seeing how many birds can land on them as much as possible. Buddy so far holds the record with 27 birds.

But there is a little snag in their friendship.

It involves training.

Buddy hates the idea of hurting anyone in any way shape or form. Prowl does it for self-defense or when it’s needed. He often tries to get Buddy to train with him, but it usually ends up with Buddy bringing animals into his room and watching him train.

Prowl still tries to get Buddy to at least know something, but that mission is still on going.

Does not hesitate a nanosecond if someone is making Buddy feel uncomfortable and will verbally destroy them if they even think about being mean to Buddy. Does talk to Buddy about the importance of saying no and setting boundaries.

Prowl is ready to throw shuriken’s as soon as he hears about someone making Buddy feel bad about their origins. He talks to Buddy about it no mattering how they got made, what matters is who they are. They are his friend, they are their own bot and that’s all that matters. May or may not have slashed someone/ somebots tires.

Jazz

“So, how long have you’ve been here?”--Jazz

“I was born last month.”--Buddy

“… You want to take a drive around?”—Jazz

Oh, he loves Buddy’s vibe.

They are a breath of fresh air compared to being 5 minutes around Sentinel. He sees someone who has so much kindness and empathy that he knows it is a gift. He doesn’t know too many bots that have that anymore since the war.

Jazz gets to know about Buddy from their hang outs and from talking to Prowl. He likes asking Prowl about Buddy’s favorite places to visit so he knows where the two of them could hang out when he has time. When Jazz can he likes walking with Buddy about anything under the sun. From the latest gossip in the Elite Guard, to his hobbies, music tastes, etc.

Jazz stands up to anyone who is being mean or making Buddy feel uncomfortable. Most times though he would take Buddy physically out of the company of the offender. No one has time to deal with rude people. He does try and talk to Buddy about the power of saying no while still being the kind bot they are and how important boundaries are.

Jazz would be speechless if he ever heard Buddy talk about someone calling them ‘inferior’ for not being a ‘true’ Cybertronian. He’ll take Buddy out on a walk while talking to Buddy about how people being mean because they don’t have anything better to do than cause misery to people who are living life by their rules. Definitely shares with Buddy a comfort playlist before leaving. Teams up with Prowl to find the bot or person who made Buddy feel bad.

Jetfire and Jetstorm

“Buddy! Buddy! Buddy!”—Jetfire and Jetstorm

“Hello there—whoa!”--Buddy

“We missed you!”—Jetfire and Jetstorm

The twins love spending time with Buddy.

Not only does it mean that they get to skip some of their chores, but they get to have fun too. Buddy offers some of the best places to fly and great places to observe some of Earth’s great nature phenomena. The twins sometimes like to combine into Safeguard to give Buddy a ride above the ground to look at earth.

They do use the puppy dog eyes sometimes, but they don’t abuse it too much. Only on harmless things like staying up a little bit more to continue playing video games with Bumblebee.

They don’t hesitate to get Buddy out of a harmful situation. Maybe flare up their powers a bit as a warning. They act like Buddy’s bodyguards when things get hairy.

They get angry when Buddy mentions that someone told them that they were a ‘real’ Cybertronian. They want names immediately. They do try to distract Buddy from feeling down by cracking jokes to make them forget about that feeling again.

Sentinel Prime

“So, this thing has a fragment of the Allspark?”--Sentinel

“They’re name is Buddy.”--Optimus

“Well just hold them down so we can extract—”--Sentinel

“NO!”—Everyone

Yeah, that’s right he wanted to crack Buddy open just to get the Allspark fragment and call it a day. No one is letting Sentinel anywhere near Buddy after what he said. He has tried pulling the Prime card, but that means nothing here.

Buddy, since they did not hear this, does try to make friends with him. They just want everyone to get along, where’s the damage in that? They are a bit confused in why so many of their friends are so against them even being a couple feet from Sentinel.

The rare times that he does get with Buddy are filled with him undermining them and proud fully boasting about his achievements. Yes, he is defiantly one of the Bots who calls Buddy a ‘fake’ Cybertronian. But these are short times since Buddy’s friends are never too far when Sentinel is around.

All the talking does do a number on Buddy’s confidence and self-esteem thinking they aren’t a true Cybertronian

Sentinel better run and hide because the second that Buddy lets loose that they think that way about themselves and it was caused by Sentinel.

Nothing on this planet or Cybertron is going to stop the war path buddy’s friends are going to be on.

#transformers #transformers x reader #tfa x reader #tfa optimus prime #tfa bumblebee #tfa bulkhead #tfa ratchet #tfa sari #tfa prowl #tfa jazz #tfa jettwins #tfa sentinel prime #maccadam

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usedpidemo · 2 years

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Awards after-party affair (Itzy Yuna)

Like a ringing bell at the top of the hour, the signal is loud, instant, and right on time. One eager attendee catches the first van roll onto the red carpet entrance. He makes the call like it’s routine, alerting everyone else for an invasion—a visual attack is about to happen.

“They’re here!”

You’re no different from the rest of this eager crowd. You stop whatever you’re doing—in this case, fiddling with your handheld camera—to redirect your gaze in the same direction as everyone else. Despite how little in common you share with these people, you’re all in perfect sync, like this has all been practiced and choreographed a thousand times. From the front seats come out two imposing men: one serving as driver and the other as manager/bodyguard. The driver slides open the door. Though they’re only silhouettes, shadows that are unassuming, it’s enough to make the masses scream their lungs out.

See, you’re not a fan. To you, you’re only doing a job. It pays remarkably well and creates jealousy to anyone whenever you bring it up in conversation. At this point though, you’re completely callous to the experience and share the same amount of displeasure as an average joe working a 9-to-5. The ordeal of covering numerous award shows, red carpets, and press junkets from week to week—sometimes two events in a single day—serve as more of an endless assault on your senses and test of patience with everyone, and this is no different. Sure, it’s a rare privilege to meet all kinds of larger than life stars, but dealing with their bitchy PR managers is a whole other affair.

It’s late in the afternoon, the sun at its apex right before descent, without a single cloud in sight, and you’re fucking dying of dehydration. It doesn’t help that there's cafes perched on nearly every corner you look, and an iced drink never looked so mouthwatering. Even if you wanted a teeny-tiny sip, you can’t. You have no power to, because as trivial as it is compared to other events you’ve attended, everything’s on the line. Your editors need the scoop to regurgitate the same old content produced by almost every other media outlet patiently waiting in line, too.

The truth is: it’s always been the same old same old since day one. Really, there’s little that crosses the line from both the interviewer and interviewee. It’s always the safest option, the cleanest question. Nothing goes beyond that; no one’s willing to step beyond that arbitrary boundary, even if it’s to spice up the headlines once in a while. No wonder your publication, along with many others, resorts to shady gossip and misleading articles with poor, if not any supporting evidence.

Still, you’re already there, and there’s nothing to lose in the long term—except a few hours of your time.

One by one, both actors and idols alike hop off their black vans, wave to the crowd, speak to a few junkets in line, then head inside. Extra time willing, they take a couple of pictures with the screaming audience or some lucky fan. The entire process moves by in a robotic and formulaic way, it reinforces the negative stereotypes critics have about the industry—and you’re quietly one of those detractors. Nevertheless, you put aside your personal judgment, and follow along, the several dozens of photos you’ve taken of every star on the carpet as proof of your professionalism.

The endless stream of appearances from both small and big names continue for at least another hour. Celebrity vans line up bumper-to-bumper to continue dropping more off; it might as well be a delivery store of people’s dreams. Out comes the next anticipated set of stars, another indistinguishable five-member girl group, all dressed in black. Your trigger fingers take as much as they can, as fast they can. The end result is several individual and group shots added to your camera roll, probably some of your best so far, as they are conveniently positioned right in front of you—at the center of your lens—compared to almost everyone else. Take another look at a few of the pictures you took, and you notice they’re staring right at you.

Even as the red carpet wraps up, you don’t really think much of it. Inside, you’re called backstage, along with your fellow media representatives, where it’s basically a rinse and repeat of what happened outside, with longer, more forgiving intervals. At least you can finally rest your tired legs, and unlike the red carpet, where it’s a nonstop barrage of action, commercials actually give you, and the other journalists by extension, more room to breathe—the only positive ads will ever have for humanity.

Similarly, winners line up backstage after claiming their trophy and giving their typical, routine speech. Arriving at a room filled with nothing but media, they answer a different but familiar set of sanitary questions, then go back to their seats. The pacing difference between awards proper and red carpet is night and day, like hitting traffic at rush hour. Most of the time, everyone’s eyes are glued to the widescreen television while the show plays out, and it’s no different from a viewer watching at home. The energy inside the cramped room is laid back and relaxed; at times you forget you’re at an awards ceremony and not your local bar.

Really, it’s only the celebrities themselves who are in a hurry, speaking to the press like they’re rapping, tapping their feet like they haven’t stopped dancing, clear in their intention to leave in a hurry, which is the most relatable they can be with their audience. Most winners appear only once, with a few exceptions. The seven boys you see almost everywhere in Korea, even more so globally—make the most frequent returns, even closing out as the recipient of the grand prize, and their exit means everyone in the media is done for the night, too.

You should be going home by now. It’s getting late, and you’re practically done, except not really. As is tradition, there’s always a few afterparties being thrown around in celebration, and to your annoyance, you have to attend one. To make things worse, you’re not there to have fun and get wasted—not in the slightest. You’re there to take some more photos and get additional quotes, according to your superiors’ orders. There’s no added incentive or bonus in return for a few more hours of your time that could have been spent in more productive activities or resting for the next day, but you still power on because your job is never truly stable. One missed opportunity, one stolen scoop, and next thing you know, you’re being shown the door.

The lounge you end up going to might as well be a goddamn rave. Flashing lights, bodies crowding up the dance floor, deafening bass-boosted music blasting through the many speakers—it’s the most torturous parts of the job crammed into one colorful, insufferable hellhole. It’s less of a place where celebrities hang out and more of a grimy hangout where needy, desperate mad men and women look to get fucked. Before entering, you check the address and location on your phone. Perhaps there’s been a mistake, and you were given incorrect information. Nope. The text you receive from your supervisor reconfirms the location. Inside, you also find a few other journalists suffocating under the same toxic air like you.

Squeezing between drunk bodies, mindlessly dancing like there’s no tomorrow, you sneak to the spacious bar, a temporary reprieve from the ear-splitting, soul-crushing madness. Whipping out several paper bills from your pocket, you slide them forward on the counter, mumbling to the barista your desired drink. At this point, you’d take anything, as long as it makes the rest of the night bearable.

“I’ll take two of what he’s having.” A feminine voice interjects, more bills than yours twirled between her fingertips, and the barista accepts her payment instead, overturning yours and sliding your money back.

From the blurred reflection on the counter, you swing your gaze to the right. A cute, young woman in a black, slinky dress takes the unoccupied seat beside you, flashes you an eye smile and cheeky grin back.

“Sup,” she says, casually, like you’re two friends hanging out together. “Didn’t expect you to show up here as well.”

“Wait.” With furrowed brows, you point a finger at her. She looks awfully familiar, but you can’t really tell her apart from the countless well dressed people you’ve been seeing for hours on end. “Aren’t you from—”

“Oh? You interviewed me earlier!”

Her answer doesn’t provide a single hint or narrows down who. You’ve taken countless pictures of different girl groups, and your lack of investment towards any of them means they’re basically indistinguishable in your eyes. Still, she looks young enough to be a member from one of the more junior groups.

“Yeah, none of this is adding up.”

“Yuna? Shin Yuna? Does that name ring a bell to you?”

“Oh, of course it does!” Her name rings a few bells, but still, you’re not confident enough to confirm, and it shows in your tone. “Itzy, right?”

She nods positively, brimming with joy at the mention of her group’s name. “Yep yep!”

“Well, congrats on the award again,” you reply, reaching out your hand as a friendly gesture. You don’t really remember what award her group won or how many trophies they won, nor do you have the willpower to care, but a little kindness goes a long way. “You had a great performance as well.”

“Thanks!” Smiling toothily, Yuna bows while reciprocating your motion, meeting halfway for a respectful handshake. Her grip tightens for a brief moment before quickly pulling back. “I appreciate your comment.”

Timely. The barista returns to you with two drinks you forgot you ordered. She takes them both, hands you one, and you both raise your glasses to the sky before clinking them together.

“Cheers.”

With hearty spirits, you take a little sip from your drink, while Yuna downs a quarter of her beverage. The sweet taste elicits a cheery, wide smile on her lips, compels her to down more. After only the second swig, half of her drink is gone. Both of you can’t be more different when it comes to enjoying alcohol; you’re one to ease into it slowly, while she rushes into the feeling. Then you take note of the fact that she looks quite young—she’s the youngest of her group, in fact—having just come of age, and drinking appears to be a fresh concept to her. No wonder she looks so enthusiastic and pumped about indulging liquor.

“So,” Yuna places her glass on the counter with an audible thud and peeps you with comically wide, childlike eyes. “What brings you here?”

“Not much,” you say, casually, as you stare at the stainless glass and the yellow liquid contained within. Its bubbliness fascinates you, captures your scrutiny like it’s the most interesting thing around, like a work of art in an exhibit. “I should be the one interviewing you, and to get some more information.”

“Information about what?”

“I don’t know. Something to fill up the paper, I guess.” You inch the drink closer to you, inspecting it from top to bottom like some type of rare artifact—something to occupy your idle, bored mind.

“You make it sound like you’re spying on us,” retorts Yuna, playfully resting her chin against her clenched fist leaning on the table. Her eyes take a cursory look, examining you from head-to-toe, finding something around your chest that intrigues her. “I mean, good try though.”

“It’s not that kind of information,” you reply, aware that it’s spoken with hyperbole, but still, there’s a difference between safe, journalistic reporting and straight-up criminal stalking.

“You’re really terrible at this tabloid job, you know?” mocks Yuna, poking her finger at the camera partially hidden behind your coat. On her lips is a cocky, teasing smirk, with the clear intent to toy with you. She’s leaning closer, eager to watch your expressions crumble little by little. “It’s like you’re begging for information.”

If only she weren’t so cute and innocent in how she goes about it, you’d probably wave the white flag, give up halfway, and profess—or straight up leave.

“And is that supposed to dissuade me?” says you, flatly, completely unbothered. Your eyes make contact with hers, staring at her with a piercing leer. Instead of being intimidated, her smile widens, and her shiny teeth are blinding; she knows she’s caught you under her trap, slowly pulling on your most sensitive strings, and her words have a subtle effect on you.

“If it could, yes,” replies Yuna, peering through your gaze with widening eyes, looking at you with heightened intrigue, unfazed by your shallow threat. “But since you’re so determined and stubborn to get some information for that shitty paper of yours, I’ll let you in on a little secret.”

“Do tell.”

Suddenly, she tears her gape away from you, turns her head left and right for any crossing sign, then back at you with a wider, suspicious smirk. “Not here.”

—————

You expected her to take you to a peaceful location, like the back rooms or one of the many uninhabited private booths. For someone like her, a K-pop idol, surely there’s a van waiting for her outside, ready to depart on call.

A bathroom stall was far from it.

The moment she stood up, walked away, then looked back with a different, expressive glance, that was an open invitation for you. Forget about the fact that she’s an idol and a celebrity first; in those caramel eyes was a glance that was forbidding and scandalous, but alluring enough to draw you in without a moment of hesitation. Not once you questioned where she was leading you. You trailed closely behind, drinking in the young starlet’s hourglass figure, perfectly shaped for a skintight dress that made her stand out from everyone in the crowd. With such dreamlike beauty walking in a sea of commoners, you thought all eyes would be on her, as usual, but the opposite happened—it was you who became hypnotized by her.

Eventually, you both sneak past everyone, which proves to be relatively trivial, locking yourselves together inside an empty bathroom secluded on the club’s second floor. Yuna looks around the spacious restroom for possible occupants, only to find every one of the five available stalls completely unoccupied. Despite how hidden you are from the rest of the party, the music echoes loud enough to pass through the walls.

“Perfect,” she says, taking another scope then to the widescreen mirror, possibly referring to the setting, and to herself. She looks at her reflection with a confident, proud grin, and your suspicion is proven correct. “I’m pretty sure you know where this is going, right?”

“Mhmm,” you reply, nodding. Two people, alone in a bathroom. You know damn well what’s about to happen.

This isn’t the first time a star has offered themselves to you behind closed doors. It’s an industry secret, but open news shared among most publications and certain names that get around. It’s these private affairs where most of the money comes from. Each incident generates revenue in exchange for keeping such filthy secrets classified and hidden. Can’t say you’re clean or innocent in the issue; you’ve had a few experiences with some of Korea’s biggest film stars in exchange for money too, but this is your first time with a K-pop idol, and they say they’re the ones who are deepest in the circle.

“Good, I guess I don’t have to tell you how fucking horny I am,” says Yuna, casual in her delivery of such shocking filth. “And the rumors are true,” she continues, flashing you a flirtatious wink. Her fingers play with the straps holding her dress together, dragging them along her shoulders.

“That you’re a slut?”

“We’re all sluts, baby,” she replies, approaching you with a seductive gaze that can render anyone paralyzed, and you’re no exception. With a cute, fresh face like hers, It’s unbelievable and quite frankly dumbfounding how leisurely she says it, like it’s the norm for everyone in her profession—and it’s sufficient evidence to prove that case. Then again, she’s still a teen, and you’re on the edge of a really dangerous line. Sure, having sexual favors with anyone in the entertaiment industry is already a line crossed, but this is a whole layer below with far more grave implications, and here she comes, forcefully dragging you far beyond the point of no return. Really, with your line of work, this was bound to happen eventually, but you never expected it to come from such an unexpected person—a Korean idol, your least favorite kind of celebrity.

But this is the moment where all of that changes.

“Still have some battery left in that camera, right?” Yuna points at the handheld camera dangling freely on your chest again. “Go and take some.”

You incorrectly predicted her to jump right into the action, but you’re not bothered in the slightest. You were already taking a gallery’s worth of mental pictures of her sexy body, made hotter by her deliberate, seductive teasing, but having a physical reference for future personal use is helpful too.

So you pull the camera from its strap to take photos of the frisky maknae while she does many poses for you. Even behind a lens, her beauty is so ethereal, it doesn’t compare in the slightest to looking at her with the naked eye. She exudes a perfect balance of cute and sultry, a trait you’ve rarely seen among the many actors and actresses you’ve met before. Perhaps this is the greatest strength of an idol, and you’re left wanting more.

Yuna then approaches you, occupied taking as many pictures you can of the idol, running your remaining memory dry. She drops to her knees, looks at you with those wide, inviting eyes, and her fingers wrap around the edges of your pants.

“Don’t stop,” she says, pouting her lips upward, in the direction of your camera to emphasize her command, and you know you can’t do otherwise. Photography isn’t in your skill set, yet she trusts you with her life—her career—and there’s pressure beginning to amount in your head. Surely she’s not that desperate to the point where she’s asking a random journalist to get her quick fill of excitement.

The spark in her eyes, the determination on her brows, and the carefree smile on her lips—this isn’t her first rodeo, and it certainly won’t be her last.

Yuna turns her attention away from your curious, troubled gaze to your pants, unzipping the hindering garment down while you continue capturing every still, every frame of the young woman in such a vulnerable, lewd position. These photos would spell disaster should they ever leak out of this room, and it’s even more dangerous when it’s a young group, a rising name who has a stake on the global stage. Even so, you continue snapping photos at her request, fingers pretty much playing a single repeating key on the trigger, you might as well have glued your index to the button.

“I knew it,” she murmurs, the erect tent on your groin area poking into view. Seconds later, your boxers join your pants on the floor, springs your cock free from its clothed prison. “I’m gonna have a lot of fun tonight. I don’t know what the other girls are doing, but they’ll regret not being here. It’s fine, I don’t feel like sharing this.”

With your hard cock next to the pretty, demure idol, your involvement can’t be any more obvious. Yuna immediately notices the sudden quietness of the camera, so she looks up at you again, notes your flushed cheeks, the little beads of sweat forming on your head, and giggles.

“Really now?” she says, lifting a puzzled eyebrow, fingers slowly gripping around your shaft. You try to resist, show a little opposition, but it’s superficial; before long, you can’t hold in the jolt of pleasure coursing through your nerves and utter a low, muffled moan. “You’re perfectly fine with taking sensitive pictures of me, but you’ll say no to this? You’ve said it yourself. I’m a slut—a slut for good cock.”

Her soft, dainty tongue latches onto your tip, rendering you more speechless. Can’t say she’s wrong, and telling her otherwise would make you look worse. Bodily ecstasy makes your senses go haywire; your hands struggle to hold the camera, but you manage to save all that important material with one hand and let the other wander down to caress and stroke her long, auburn hair. Your eyes flutter shut, unable to take in the sight of Yuna kissing and pumping your cock, and the knot in your tongue loosens, releasing delicate, breathy moan after moan.

It’s clear that Yuna’s done this before, experienced with the art of sexual pleasure, like it’s her primary line of profession, and she knows all the tricks and weaknesses to get to the core of any man or woman. At this point, you’ve practically neglected her demand, but the soft, intimate kissing sounds she makes as she revels in your cock give you a solid reference point to take more mental pictures of her. The camera in your grasp has been set aside on the sink. Both of your hands grip on the young woman’s brown locks, straddling a line between gentle and assertive as she gradually takes your length into her mouth.

“F-fuck, Yuna—” you mutter, having difficulty to formulate words, forcing your brain to resort to moans and grunts like a baby.

She doesn’t react or budge in the slightest; she only works harder and harder. The idol remains steadfast, filling her mouth up to your base, generously coating your shaft with her saliva. Her fingers dig into your thighs, pressing you harshly against the sink as your moan turns into an echoed groan. The quick burst of pain you feel is overtaken by the continuous pleasure flowing throughout your veins, like sexual indulgence is the only thing your body understands.

You try to fight your overwhelmed senses, hoping to catch even a tiny glimpse of the beautiful woman giving you the best blowjob in the world, and it proves to be an intense struggle. Not once are you cognizant about tossing the idol’s head back and forth, even with the audible, echoey plop plop sounds raising several warning flags saying you’re too aggressive. Eventually, you manage to lift one eye open to see Yuna, completely immersed in her own pleasure, diligently sucking your cock while mixes of drool and precum splatter on her chin, her collarbones, and down to her black dress, leaving even more apparent hints for everyone to see.

In the end, it’s only you who gets to look at the different, ruined side of Yuna. Here’s a popular star, larger than life in the eyes of many, down on her knees, subservient to the most human and primal urges, just like anyone else. A wave of cum gushes into her mouth right as she releases your cock like spilled milk. Your burst of seed waterfalls, filling her chin and her dress with a dirty, sticky coat of white. Her eyes pop open, surprised at how filthy she looks, and how early she made you cum.

“Oh God,” says Yuna, pressing a hand on her glistening chin, then to her dress top. Gooey strings connect her fingers and the expensive, messed up fabric. “I made you cum early didn’t I?”

You’re catching heavy breaths, looking up at the ceiling, staring at the blinding lights like you’re seeing heaven. You might as well be; she ripped your soul out of your body with only her tongue.

“Shit, Yuna, I—”

Returning to her mischievous ways, her laughter echoes throughout the bathroom, poking fun at your overwhelmed state, like it’s the first time you’ve had sex. She’s proud of herself for making you cum with a mere blowjob, and she flicks her digits to coat them with more of your seed as her reward. Lapping them up into a sizable sample, she takes her fingers into her mouth for a taste.

“Yeah.” She rises to your level, licks her fingers clean, decorates her pink lips with your seed with a wide, charming, cheeky grin. Your marks are prominent on the grooves of her lips. “You’re so yummy.”

Lowering your gaze back down to earth, you finally see the ravaged mess you’ve done to Yuna. Spurts of white on her face, neck, and many puddles that have stained her dress. Seeing the utter disbelief in your expressions, she plays into the naughtiness by pressing her cum stained fingers on her inviting, visible cleavage.

With a free hand snaking down to your crotch, she pumps you back to hardness, holding a steady gaze of lust with you, the fire in her loins freshly renewed. “I know you want more. I want more.” Her other hand reaches to one strap, pulls it further down her arm, then does the same with the remaining cord, freely exposing her sizable breasts, drawing your eyes toward her chest. It’s difficult to look away, especially when someone like her knows how to captivate with a face like hers, natural with how expressive she is, only because she allowed you to stare elsewhere.

You gasp and sigh under the tight duress Yuna puts on your groin, giving her more confidence and a stronger hold on you. Grasp her bare shoulder with one hand, wander around her waist with the other, carefully crossing the lines of fabric and skin until you reach her surprisingly round ass. Her features slowly melt and eyes widen as she leans her face close, breath tensing up in anticipation, lips repressing her groan, practically whispering to you, “Fuck me. Fuck me.”

Yuna’s eyes pop out, caught unawares as you take her body and flip your positions around. She's now pressed against the bathroom sink with you assuming control. Her hands hold onto your shoulders, still fixated to your eyes like she sees stars within them. With the strength of your hand gripped to her ass, you lift her up partially so that her feet no longer touch the ground, and her legs slowly part, giving you an opening. Your other hand ruffles through her short skirt, digs into her tunnel, and she winces.

“Oh, fuck—” Her nails dig into the fabric of your shirt as you feel a slick, wet sensation on your fingers. Her features are so expressive, they’re best actress worthy. She shudders, teeth gritting intensely as you withdraw your digits. In an instant, her calm, confident attitude fades at your slightest touch, and she grows impatient and desperate. “Give me your cock now! I need you to fill me—”

You capture her lips in a passionate, fervid kiss, shutting her up as a distraction while you line your erect cock between her sopping cunt. She whines into the smooch, tries to break away, but you pull her in, let your tip run up and down around her wet entrance, and she hums musically. In turn, she pushes you as close to her as humanly possible; you might as well be practically inside her. Her lips curl into a frown as she pushes her dress further down, bunching it with the bottom of her skirt, her now naked, sweaty midriff pressed against your shirt.

Drawing your face away from hers, you take a second to admire the spry starlet, once dolled up to near perfection, now as filthy and human as the typical clubgoer. She doesn’t reciprocate your adoring gaze, annoyed at the small amount of time wasted, when that time could have been spent already impaling yourself deep inside her. It’s not like you’ve spent the whole day salivating and taking pictures of her.

“Wait.” Avert your eyes from the idol to the camera you’ve forgotten for a moment. She kisses you madly, showering your cheeks with wet, soppy marks filled with lipstick and sticky cum, but it doesn’t faze you in the slightest. You know simple distractions don't bother you by now.

Camera pointed at you both, you return your attention to her, finally giving her what she wants without any further delay. With a single smooth stroke, you plunge your cock into her wet pussy, and it flexes right back in a brief move of resistance, but you push deeper into her heat and it takes the breath right out of your lungs.

“F-f-fuck, Yuna, you’re—tight.”

The spry woman lifts her head back, exposes her smooth, flawless neck, uttering a long, breathy sigh before it turns into a pitched whine. Her nails poke into your nape, clutches deep into your skin, body sliding up and down along with your cock as you acclimate to the suffocating tightness of her cunt. There’s no sense of rhythm or pace in the manner you pound her, only focused on chasing that sensual high, using her model figure as canvas for your pleasure.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, that’s—” Yuna whines with each slam of your hips, slack jawed and drooling, eyes completely shut, enveloped under the gripping force of your cock spearing her tight, sensitive hole. “Your cock feels so—”

Her sentence fades into another series of whimpers and cries of bliss. Seeing her tits bounce and ripple with each rock of her body arouses you, and they draw you in, more than any other part of her. Yuna’s body was an open invitation for you to take, which you gladly do.

Bury your face between her chest, cupping her soft, creamy flesh within your grasp, then take her taut nipples into your mouth, going back and forth between both breasts, giving them the equal amount of attention they rightfully deserve.

You continue to fuck the maknae into submission, giving the camera a good show, already more entertaining and exciting after only a few minutes than a four-hour-long awards ceremony. The artist is treated way better, and so is the cameraman by being an active participant in the action, dictating the pace the way he sees fit. As it goes, you push yourself quicker and quicker, trying to wrap up the show, plunging deep into her constricting walls, drenching your cock with more of her wet juices.

The many expressions she makes as you touch her and ruin her are award worthy; they can belong in a fancam reel and it wouldn’t be any more different. Hell, she’s more provocative and intense than her typical routine music performance. Her features curl into almost every emotion a human can experience, from pain and pleasure, evoking a strong, unforgettable image, another mental picture to save in your memories, more detailed than any photograph.

Then there’s the sound—the music is as loud as ever, blocking out the endless stream of cries she makes. Yuna’s tone is high-pitched, moaning out a blissful song as you stretch her pussy out, with the little flap of wet skin against skin backing her up, and it tickles your ears in all the right spots.

You slide a finger from her breast to her crotch, feel the surging wetness coat your digit, then lower her to the floor—but only for a moment. While Yuna remains staggered in ecstasy, you turn the woman around, facing the mirror, before you reacquaint your cock inside her drenched cunt, and it’s like you never stopped fucking her. She moans, and moans—and moans.

“You’re so fucking hot, Yuna,” you whisper in her ear. Her back arches as you wreck her from behind. Staring at your reflection, you note your smug expression. For once, you look really good in the mirror, especially with the woman in front of you.

Her expressions say it all: she likes being fucked. The way her smile briefly flashes before melting between thrusts, she knows her body is built for sex—perfect for a slut like her. Even she can’t help but look proud at how drop dead gorgeous she is, especially in that lewd, erotic position.

Using her expressive, satisfied face as motivation, you piston quicker and quicker, glancing at the young idol flaunting her many charms off like she’s in front of the cameras, like the bright lights are on her, like an audience is watching her. Your mind is centered on her too; in fact, she’s the only one in your thoughts, with each thrust intended to make her sing, make her perform, make her act.

“Gonna—gonna—” she cries, hoarsely, barely able to muster up the strength to formulate coherent speech.

“Cum on my cock Yuna,” you say, whispering in her ear again, pulling on her triggers. “Cum on my cock.”

The words are more than enough to set her off. Yuna’s mouth goes wide, forming an ‘O’ shape, her body going rigid and quaking as she loses control of herself to her bliss. She orgasms; it’s powerful and lengthy, dragging you further into her inescapable whirlpool, and really, it only accelerates your own forthcoming climax, and you fuck her as she rides out her peak, savoring the remaining time you have left before you drown in your own high as well.

“I can feel you throbbing hard for me,” she says, completely washed over by her own dwindling orgasm. “Cum in me. Cum for this slut. Don’t ever think about pulling out of this wet pussy meant for you!”

Gripping your hands between her dirty chestnut locks, you try to resist a little more, show that you can last longer than she initially thought, but ultimately give in for a second time. On a deep, violent stroke, you make a lengthy, incomprehensible sound that might as well be the relief you feel after holding in that burning sensation in your loins. You release hot spurt after spurt into her pussy, her name dripping from your lips like you’re thanking God for release, and you feel a sticky, gooey tingling on your thighs.

Eventually, your hips wind down along with your orgasm, until they come to a full stop. You rest your head forward, laying on the sink beside her, still embedded inside her. The moans that filled the room fade in the background of the club’s thunderous music, but both of you are oblivious and tired to hear anything except for deep, heavy breaths.

After an uncertain period of time—could have been a few minutes or a few hours, you have a timely day off tomorrow, so it’s the least of importance—you come to your senses first and check on the camera you’ve set on the side. Yuna follows shortly after, washing her hands clean, but it doesn’t cleanse her of her filth.

“So?” she says, trying in vain to look neat. She looks at the camera in your hand while you scan through the reel. “How do I look?”

You present the gallery to her, showing her every single ilicit and raunchy photo you’ve taken of her, until you get to the part where you reveal that you’ve recorded yourselves having sex. It’s crude, it’s pornographic, it’s perfect.

She pouts her lips, gives an approving nod. “We look so good together. I need you to send me these via email.”

“Of course,” you say, nonchalantly—like this is a completely regular exchange—like she’s not an idol and you’re a journalist with an integrity to uphold, but all that’s thrown out the window now. “When I get on my computer tomorrow.”

After you both clean up to the best of your abilities, Yuna gestures at you to wait as she unlocks the bathroom door, then slowly turns the knob. Not once has it knocked and distracted you. Maybe you’ve missed a few, but still, it was probably drowned out by the music and the moaning. As a result, you were left unbothered the entire time, so perhaps Yuna’s plan was foolproof right from the start—

“Hey!”

Yuna’s eyes grow wide in shock, followed by yours. On the other side of the door are four women waiting, well dressed as she is, who look just as surprised as both of you.

“Who’s that guy you’re with?” asks the woman with dragon-like eyes, tone expressing disappointment at her member. Her gaze is similar to Yuna’s, studying you from head to toe like she did.

Then they all say in unison, “And why weren’t you sharing him with us?”

(A/N: Yuna looked incredible in that dress she wore for The Fact Music Awards, and the fact she's sharing so many pics makes it even better. Surprised there's nothing based on this material, but I understand why. Boys Like You is really good, go stream it! Thank you for reading!)

#smut #kpop smut #itzy #yuna

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